Jackson walked into The Popped Cherry, the trendy bar in downtown Chicago where he’d promised to meet up with his good friend, Wes Sinclair, after work. It was nearly six thirty on a Friday night, and the place was already packed. As he made his way through the crowd, he glanced over at the bar as Tate Morrison, one of the owners of the place, glanced up from the bottle of vodka he’d just picked up.
“Hey, man. How’s it going?” Tate greeted him without breaking stride on the cocktail he was mixing.
“Good.” Jackson stopped next to a barstool where Tate’s significant other, Logan Mitchell, was sitting, and shook the other man’s hand. The dark-haired, good-looking guy was a lawyer at Mitchell and Madison in the city, and his half brother, Cole, had been counsel on Jackson’s divorce three years ago. They’d remained good friends since then.
Jackson casually leaned an arm on the counter next to Logan. “How are things at the office?”
“Busy.” Logan took a quick drink of his gin and tonic. “Which is always a good thing, so I’m not complaining.”
Jackson raised a brow. “Can’t be too busy if you can still find time to harass Tate at work.”
Behind the black-framed glasses Logan wore, his blue eyes gleamed with humor. “Being part owner of the joint, it’s my job to make sure I keep Tate in line.”
Tate scoffed at his boyfriend’s arrogant comment and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Jackson. I definitely put Logan in his place at home. Frequently.”
Logan smirked, though there was no mistaking the affection in his voice when he spoke. “And you do it oh so well.”
“Don’t you forget it.” Tate gave Logan a flirty grin before shifting his gaze back to Jackson. “Bushmills, neat?”
Jackson nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”
As Tate poured his drink, Jackson glanced around the place, searching for Wes. As he did so, he couldn’t help but compare the contemporary, modern design of The Popped Cherry, which catered more toward corporate clientele, to Clay’s simple and modest bar. The two establishments were night and day in comparison, and as much as Jackson enjoyed this place, there was something about Kincaid’s that made him feel as though he fit in and belonged there.
It was a ridiculous notion considering his brothers’ cool reception had made him feel more like an outsider than someone they were eager to establish any kind of a relationship with. No, it was Tara who’d made him feel welcome and accepted from the first moment they’d met, in a way that had eluded him for most of his life. She was the one supporting his efforts to connect with his siblings, not because she expected something in return but because she genuinely cared about the Kincaid brothers and wanted to be sure they didn’t miss out on the opportunity to get to know Jackson.
For a man who’d experienced very little kindness and caring throughout his life, her compassion and understanding toward the situation, and with him, was something he cherished. It remained to be seen whether it had been a smart or stupid decision on his part to agree to accompany Tara to Clay’s house tomorrow afternoon for her graduation party. He had no idea what kind of reception to expect, but he wanted this time with his brothers badly enough to risk their wrath by showing up.
Tate set his glass of whiskey on the counter, and Jackson pulled a twenty out of his wallet to pay for the drink. “Have either of you seen Wes?” he asked the two men.
Logan nodded to the right of Jackson. “He’s right over there, doing what he does best.”
Jackson didn’t have to turn around to know that Wes was most likely surrounded by a selection of attentive, willing, beautiful females. The man was a shameless flirt who enjoyed women. Unfortunately for the ladies he hooked up with, he was also a notorious heartbreaker and didn’t do serious relationships.
A wry grin tugged up the corner of Jackson’s mouth. “Are panties hitting the floor?”
Logan chuckled. “Not yet, but he definitely has a few of them heading in that direction.”
“Then I’d better go and save him from himself.” Jackson picked up his drink and nodded to each of the men. “You two have a good evening.”
He walked toward where Logan had indicated, and sure enough, Wes was in his element, surrounded by three perky blondes who were all vying for his attention and hanging on every word he spoke. The man was too damn good-looking for his own well-being, with that bad-boy air about him that had every woman believing she’d be the one to tame him. Yeah, good luck with that.
Wes caught sight of Jackson as he approached, but since Jackson had no desire to make idle conversation with any of those women, he strolled toward a high-top table that a couple had just vacated and claimed it for himself. He slid onto one of the barstools and waited for Romeo to come and join him. As he sat there, the cell phone in his pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out to see who’d texted him.
Tara: I just want to make sure that we’re still on for tomorrow?
Just seeing her name put a stupid smile on his face. Damn, it had been a long time since any woman had given him a genuine reason to feel lighthearted and happy, which happened every time he’d talked or texted with Tara since their donut date two nights ago.
They’d spent over two hours chatting on the phone last night after she’d gotten off of work—surprisingly, she’d called him—conversing mostly about him and his job as an architect since she didn’t like to talk about herself. He would have liked to have learned more about her and that past she was so vague about, but he knew how difficult it was to let someone in, to open up and reveal painful things when you weren’t ready. He hoped she’d eventually realize that she could trust him. It was shocking to him that he could feel so much for her so quickly.
He texted back, keeping things light and fun. Which part of tomorrow are you referring to? The party or the sinning?
She quickly replied. You can’t have one without the other.
He chuckled, enjoying her sassy retort. Well, technically you can, but since I’m not willing to forego the sinning, I’ll be right on time to pick you up for the party.
Good. There was a break in the text, then those three bubbles appeared that told him another comment was on its way. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.
There was something intimate about the words despite them being so casual. Something that made his heart beat a little faster because it meant she’d missed him. Though they’d only known each other a little over a week and a half, he knew they were both feeling more than just a basic attraction. He was so drawn to Tara, the connection he felt when he was with her was like nothing else he’d ever experienced with a woman, and he didn’t want to take it, or her, for granted.
He typed a response. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, too.
He figured she was at work, because she didn’t text back, and he hated that a part of him was disappointed that her attention had been diverted elsewhere. Grinning to himself, he decided to leave her a surprise text for when she checked her phone later in the evening. A little something for her to look forward to tomorrow night after the party, when they were finally alone and he had her all to himself.
Sin number four . . . driving my cock into you hard and deep while watching you pinch your nipples and finger your pussy until we both come.
Yeah, that ought to give her a nice, sexy fantasy to think about.
A few minutes later, Wes took the seat across from Jackson and set his drink on the table. “Hey, Mr. Unsociable. I could have introduced you to a sure thing back there.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested.” He was way more discriminate than his friend, and always had been. Then again, right now there was only one woman who piqued his attention, and that was Tara. He didn’t see that ending anytime soon . . . as long as Tara maintained equal interest in him.
“You’ve been quiet the past week and a half and haven’t returned my calls,” Wes pointed out, even as his gaze strayed to a table to the left of them where three women were sitting. “Everything okay?”
Those calls had been all about having a drink together, and tonight was the first evening since finding out about his illegal adoption that Jackson was clear-minded enough to meet up with his friend. “I just have some things going on that I’m trying to deal with.”
“Work?” Wes guessed.
“No, work is fine.” Jackson absently turned his glass in a circle on the napkin it was sitting on. “Just some personal shit I’ve been trying to figure out.”
Wes raised an inquisitive brow. “Care to elaborate on that?”
Jackson met Wes’s earnest gaze. For the most part, Wes was easygoing and didn’t take much seriously, but it was times like this that reminded Jackson what a good friend Wes had been after Jackson’s wife’s affair and their subsequent divorce. He’d known Wes for over five years now. The other man was a luxury real estate agent, and they’d met at a business function. A few weeks after that, Wes had sold Jackson his first condo on Lake Shore Drive, and a strong friendship had built from there.
The only people Jackson had told about his illegal adoption had been his brothers and Tara, and since he was hoping that eventually he’d form some kind of relationship with his siblings, there was no sense keeping the truth to himself.
He took a long swallow of his whiskey and proceeded to tell Wes everything—how his aunt had decided that Jackson had a right to know about his past, and all the ugly details of being sold for drug money and how his father had essentially ignored him his entire life because of who and what Jackson was, and about finally contacting his brothers about his existence, only to be shut out once again.
“Jesus,” Wes said once Jackson was finished with his story. “That’s some heavy-duty shit.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, his tone derisive. “So yeah, I’ve been a little distracted lately.”
“I totally get it.” Wes’s gaze once again wandered to the other table before returning to Jackson. “And just for the record, your brothers sound like assholes.”
Jackson laughed abruptly. He’d had a lot of time to think about his siblings’ reactions to him. A part of him understood their initial caution, but he was having a difficult time discerning why they hadn’t bothered to contact him since that meeting—unless they truly didn’t want to have anything to do with him. It was a notion that Jackson hated to think about and refused to accept.
“They’re not assholes.” Okay, maybe Mason had been a bit of an asshole, Jackson corrected in his head. “They’re just wary.”
Wes frowned at him. “You said one of the brothers was your twin. What’s there to be wary about?”
“They don’t know anything about me, so I’m assuming they just need time to get used to the idea of having another brother that came as a complete surprise.” He was trying to give the Kincaid siblings the benefit of the doubt, though it didn’t appear that they were returning the favor. “Tomorrow night, one of the bartenders who works for Clay is bringing me to a party they’re having for her. There’s no telling how that’s going to go down, but I figure it’s worth trying to break the ice.”
A slow smile tugged at the corner of Wes’s mouth as he raised an inquisitive brow. “Her?”
Out of everything Jackson had just said, that’s what he’d latched onto? Knowing his friend would endlessly hound him, Jackson told Wes what he wanted to hear. “Her name is Tara.”
Wes tapped his fingers on the table. “And how is it that you know Tara well enough that she invited you to this party, hmmm?”
“I met her the night I went to the bar. We’ve talked a few times since then.” Jackson shrugged. “She’s close to the Kincaid brothers and wants to help initiate some kind of reunion between the four of us.”
Wes nodded, but once again Jackson noticed that he was distracted by the women at the other table, or rather, one of the ladies. His gaze was riveted to the brunette who was facing him, but she wouldn’t so much as glance his way.
“What is up with you and that woman at the other table?” Jackson finally asked. He was surprised that someone so prim-and-proper-looking had captured Wes’s attention, when he was a guy who’d always gone for the fast-and-easy type. “You keep staring at her like you’re a stalker.”
“You know my business partner, Connor Prescott?” Wes asked.
Jackson nodded. “Yes.” The guy flipped a lot of the luxury homes that Wes bought that were in dire need of updates and renovations.
“Well, that’s his little sister, Natalie. I’ve known her since I was ten, and we’ve always had a love hate relationship.”
Another glance at the brunette told Jackson that she was totally blowing Wes off. “Looks more like hate to me at the moment.”
“She’s just acting a bit haughty because she sold a house right out from under me.” Wes shrugged. “Doesn’t happen often, so she’s a little pleased with herself right now.”
“So why do you keep looking at her like you want to hook up with her?”
“Well, she is kind of hot . . . in an uptight kind of way.”
Jackson laughed. “And off-limits?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled a sigh as Natalie continued to ignore him, even though the friends she was with clearly saw Wes looking her way. “Connor would castrate me if I so much as touched her that way. But damn, between you and me, when she plays hard to get, she’s so fucking tempting I want to toss her over my shoulder and take her somewhere and do dirty things to her.”
Jackson bit back an amused grin. “She doesn’t look that in to you.”
“Oh, trust me, beneath that indifference is an attraction she’s been fighting just as much as I have,” Wes said. “I love a good challenge, so I’m pretty damn sure her days of ignoring me are limited.”
“You’re such an arrogant asshole, Sinclair.”
“It’s called confidence, Stone,” his friend retorted. “Or maybe it’s been too damn long since you’ve been in the game and you’ve forgotten how it’s played?”
The thing was, Jackson had never played those games, ever. He’d always been an all-in kind of guy when it came to women and relationships. Or he had been in the past, before his ex-wife had burned and scarred him. Since then, he hadn’t allowed himself to form any emotional attachments to the women he’d gone out with. It had been all about sex, and they’d all known his intentions up front.
It had taken him three years to find a woman he wanted for more than just a bed partner and a physical release. He was attracted to Tara, and there was no denying he wanted to fuck her a dozen different ways. But he instinctively knew that she’d already gotten under his skin just based on how he felt when he was around her. Lighter. Understood. Like a man who might be given a second chance at something real and, dare he say, lasting?
Was that thought process crazy after only knowing Tara a short time? Absolutely. Was he setting himself up for a hard fall considering her connection and loyalty to Clay, Mason and Levi?
Possibly.
He realized it was a risk he was willing to take.
* * *
Tara knew she’d made the right decision asking Jackson to accompany her to her graduation celebration party, but that knowledge didn’t stop the flutters of anticipation from swirling in her belly as she waited for him to arrive to pick her up.
That nervousness was twofold. One, she hadn’t told the Kincaid brothers that she was bringing Jackson because she didn’t want to give them the opportunity to turn her down, so there was no telling what kind of reaction she and Jackson would receive when they arrived. And the second reason for those nerves was Jackson himself and the fact that she was excited to see him, spend time with him, and end the night with just the two of them all alone . . . sinning.
Good-bye to six years of celibacy and hello, dirty, sexy pleasure.
She grinned to herself as she left her bedroom and headed into the small living room in the house she’d bought on her own a few years ago. The two-bedroom one-story wasn’t much, but it was hers and no one could take it away. She’d always have somewhere to live, and it gave her a sense of security because she knew all too well what it was like not to have a place to call home. She’d vowed long ago she’d never let that happen to her again.
The doorbell chimed right on time, and when she opened the door and saw Jackson standing there looking so devastatingly gorgeous, the giddy sensation rippling through her intensified. He was wearing black jeans and a dark purple collared shirt, but it was the seductive smile on his lips and the heat glimmering in his dark brown eyes as he looked at her with a slow, appraising look that had a warm flush of delight sweeping across her cheeks.
“Hi, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble that did crazy things to her insides.
“Hi yourself, handsome.” She sounded breathless and besotted—exactly how he made her feel. “Let me grab my purse and I’m good to go.”
She didn’t invite him in because she anticipated leaving right away. But Jackson clearly had other ideas. He entered on his own, closed the door, and closed the distance between them. Without hesitating, as if she already belonged to him, he walked right up to her and cupped her face in his big hands, gently pulling her toward him. She went willingly, mesmerized by the sudden hunger blazing in his eyes.
His thumb skimmed along her bottom lip, tugging the plump flesh so her mouth parted and opened for him on a soft, needy moan. “Three days without kissing you is too fucking long,” he growled as he slid all ten fingers into her hair and tugged her head farther back.
The hands gripping her hair were firm and unrelenting, his confidence in taking what he wanted so damn arousing she was already beginning to melt. “I agree.”
“I need a taste to hold me over until later tonight.” He lowered his head, his teeth nipping softly, his tongue teasing flirtatiously, before he finally claimed her mouth completely.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on to him as her soft lips melded to his firmer, more insistent ones, and all playfulness fled and hot, intense passion took over. His tongue pushed inside, swirling deep, not just tasting but exploring and feasting greedily. One hand untangled from her hair and glided down her side, along the curve of her waist, then smoothed over her jean-clad bottom. He squeezed her ass and drew her hips to his, making sure she felt how badly he wanted her—and there was no mistaking the thick column of flesh pressing relentlessly against her lower belly.
Her nipples tightened into hard points, and her entire body ached with wet, pulsing need. Every touch, every stroke swept her senses into overload and made her crave more of everything. More of him. And God, the man knew how to kiss. His lips were like magic, his delicious, decadent mouth an aphrodisiac she could easily get accustomed to. Or maybe she was already addicted, because as soon as he dragged his lips from hers, she went straight into withdrawal.
The hand clutching her ass slid upward, and he secured a strong arm around her waist, still holding her close. The fingers still in her hair tipped her head to the side, and she shivered as his damp lips slid down the side of her neck, exposed from where her top bared one shoulder.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to skip the party and finish what we just started?” he asked as he gently nuzzled the sensitive patch of skin below her lobe.
She moaned as his tongue traced a delectable pattern on her skin, making her imagine how it would feel between her legs, along her pulsing clit. The lust coursing through her veins sizzled and spread. How bad was it that she was seriously considering his suggestion?
She struggled to keep from slipping completely under his provocative spell, and it wasn’t an easy feat. “You’re such a bad influence.”
Lifting his head, he captured her gaze as a wicked grin curved his seductive lips. “Is that a yes?” The rogue had the devilish nerve to look hopeful.
She laughed as she stepped out of his embrace, even though it was the last thing she wanted. With a reluctant sigh, he let her go.
“It would be rude for the guest of honor to not show up to her own celebration,” she said, trying to keep her voice, and her own convictions, from wavering.
“Then we’d better go before I strip you naked and have my way with you.” He raked his hot gaze down the length of her, taking in the stiff nipples still pebbled against the fabric of her gray top before his bold, shameless eyes met hers again. “I don’t think my brothers would appreciate you walking in late to your own party, looking like you’d just been thoroughly fucked.”
That dirty mouth. Those indecent words. She groaned as her body flushed with desire and reckless temptation beckoned.
“We need to go,” she said, attempting to sound stern. “Now.”
His chuckle was warm and deep and unapologetic as he walked toward the entry, and she followed. He opened the door, and as she passed through, he smacked her ass, hard enough for his handprint to sting through the material of her jeans.
She gasped and whirled around, gaping at him in shock, even as the tingling sensation turned into a slow burn of pleasure. “What was that for?”
He winked at her as a pleased, self-satisfied look crossed his gorgeous features. “Just giving you something to think about until we get back later.”
