Well, hey, she didn’t have a masseuse or a therapist here. And yes, the convenience store did have wine but she’d have to walk way over there while this big, hot Louisiana man with long hair and a beard and tattoos and a motorcycle was right here.
And clearly willing.
And she wasn’t worried at all. She didn’t know if it was because of the paramedic reassuring her that this man was a good guy, or the fact that this was actually a town much like the town where she’d grown up, or what.
Autre was tiny and everyone knew one another. Her friend Griffin was here. Granted, he’d accidentally settled here, but he seemed grudgingly happy. In fact, he seemed more than grudgingly happy. His girlfriend, Charlie, had family here and had, evidently, spent a lot of time here growing up. If she and Griffin both liked this town, Jillian felt safe here.
Yes, that all seemed probably a little convoluted as far as rationale went, but it was working. Her conscience was very cool with this.
She studied him up close.
His dark brown hair was gathered back in a ponytail, but she would guess it would hang past his shoulders when loose. In the dark brown were lighter streaks that gave him the look of someone who worked outside, or a model. His beard was short, but dark and full, and even his eyes were a deep brown.
He also had piercings in both ears, a gold stud and a hoop on the left and one gold stud on the right.
Dammit, everything about him was her type.
She knew that good guys with steady jobs and day planners were who she should be attracted to and they were who she’d dated almost exclusively. Jillian knew that in the big picture, she was looking for an opposites attract romance. But not like this.
She didn’t have any tattoos and she’d only ridden on a motorcycle once. She’d had her ears pierced when she was twelve, but she’d let the holes close up and didn’t own any earrings anymore.
But no, the opposite type of guy she was looking for was the 9-to-5-Monday-through-Friday-had-a-401k-put-appointments-in-his-phone-and-never-forget-a-birthday type. Not the clearly-wasn’t-afraid-of-needles type.
She wasn’t even concerned about her own birthday so much as she was hoping for someone who would help her remember other people’s birthdays.
Because she sucked at that kind of stuff.
She needed someone in her life to keep everything else straight so she could focus on work.
She needed someone who had a normal, sane life because they could then add some sane and normal to her life.
That’s how it had been with Stephen anyway. No, they hadn’t worked out, but he’d showed her what was possible. She was definitely looking for another Stephen.
She was not looking for a smooth-talking, tattooed, motorcycle guy who didn’t even care when he almost killed a baby goat.
But her body and her brain did not agree on what she was looking for in a man. And every once in a while, her body won the battle.
She’d had a very nice friends-with-benefits thing going with Dan back in Omaha. It had been very low-key. About once a month one of them would call the other, they’d compare their calendars, pick a night, and scratch their itches.
Then they’d go on their merry ways for another month or so.
It had been perfect. No letting him down when she had to work late—or worked late because she forgot she’d promised to go to the theater with him.
Stephen had really liked the theater. The third show he’d ended up attending alone at the last minute had been the final straw.
Dan had never asked her to the theater. Or to a movie. Or to dinner. They literally got together, said hi, and took their clothes off.
It had been amazing.
But it had been a while.
She looked up into the brown eyes of the goat terrorist.
She was really going to enjoy having sex with this guy. She could just tell. There was something about him, goat terrorist or not, that said he could deliver on orgasms.
And hey, even if there was a little false advertising going on, he had all the parts she needed and she knew how to help herself. He was big, claimed to be able to talk dirty, and he had tattoos.
She could do the rest of the work if needed.
“Maybe I should get your name,” Zeke said.
Jill felt a little shiver dance down her spine. She loved his voice. Deep, rumbly, and that drawl. Yum. She was from the Midwest. Everybody talked the same there. There were no drawls or accents. She already liked a few things about the south a lot. The beignets she’d had earlier that day had also been amazing.
“Jillian.”
Sure, it was really a small town and she was going to be living here, and there was a chance they might run into each other again. But she fully intended to be an eccentric, anti-social millionaire who owned penguins. She didn’t think they’d be seeing each other at the local bar or anything.
And hey, if tonight turned out well, she might want to run into this guy again. Every once in a while. With very long stretches in between. And only for a night at a time.
Still, he really did put off playboy vibes that said he could easily be trained to be her new Dan.
“Hi, Jillian. I’m Zeke.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he covered her lips with his before she could.
Fine. Talking, especially at moments like this, was overrated.
3
She gripped his biceps and leaned into the kiss.
He was good at this. Thank God.
He took his time easing into it. He kissed her softly at first, tasting her, pressing and then lifting, tilting his head, coming at her from another angle. She ran her hands up his arms and under the edge of his sleeves, exploring the contours of his muscles. He was definitely in good shape. Biceps, triceps, deltoids, pecs. All had sculpted definition. And he seemed to love her touch. He gave a low groan as she smoothed her hands down over his abs and then up under the t-shirt onto hot, bare skin. She ran her palms up and down his ribs, loving the way his abdominal muscles jumped.
His groan sent a shaft of heat through Jillian’s stomach that arrowed down between her legs.
He teased her lips with his tongue and she gladly opened, but as she tried to press closer she realized their height difference was going to be an issue.
She nudged him back, wanting to walk him to the bed, but he mistook it for her wanting him to stop. He lifted his head and looked down at her, breathing a little raggedly.
“You okay?”
“Need you on the bed.”
He looked surprised for a second. “Well, damn. Yes, ma’am.” He started to take a step back, but grabbed the loops on her pants, and tugged her with him. “Feel like that would be a good place for you too.”
“I’m right there with you.”
In two strides he was at the mattress, sitting and pulling her into his lap. She climbed up, straddling his thighs, and pressing into him.
Yes. That was much better.
His hands settled on her hips and she became aware of just how big and hot they were. The heat from his touch soaked through her pants and she wiggled, pressing their flies together.
He was hard. And huge.
That shaft of heat warmed her belly again and seemed to spiral out from her bellybutton to set all of her nerve endings on fire.
She couldn’t remember being this turned on in a long time.
“Damn, girl, you feel good,” he told her roughly.