Текст книги "Crashed Out "

Автор книги: Tessa Bailey

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

She allowed Sarge to help her from the car, meeting his eyes when he didn’t immediately let go of her hand. He didn’t say anything, simply looking down at her, his brow furrowed. When he released Jasmine from his grip, he immediately tried to take it back, but she moved out of his reach toward the bar. Every step she took felt unsteady, blood ticking in her temples. Had someone knit a bowling ball into her stomach lining? Feeling Sarge at her back, Jasmine swallowed her nerves and walked into the Third Shift, already feeling the distance between them. Hating it, but knowing it was necessary all the same.

One step inside and already she wanted to dive back out into the freezing night. Into Sarge’s hold. And he would hold her, take her home, kiss away all the doubt. A cheer went up when the regulars spotted the local hero in their midst and that was it. They were separated by the shifting crowd. Someone took her coat and threw it on the usual huge pile over the waitress station. Hands patted her shoulders, familiar faces kissed her cheeks in greeting, as if they hadn’t seen each other at work that afternoon. She twisted in the crowd to find Sarge. How had so many people managed to get between them already? His height made him visible in the sea of partygoers and his gaze remained steady on her, distracting her from the conversation she’d been thrust into without preamble.

River popped up to her right, nursing what Jasmine knew to be a Diet Coke. “Hey! You disappeared on me earlier. I had to fend off this rowdy pack of pizza scavengers on my own.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I…” A lie sat poised on Jasmine’s tongue, but she choked it down. They were always honest with each other. That wouldn’t stop now. “I was with Sarge, but I didn’t expect to just leave like that. I should have called you.”

One of the bartenders ambled between them, a bucket of ice balanced on his head, but Jasmine could feel her best friend weighing what she’d said. “You were with Sarge.” River sipped through her straw until she reached the bottom of her drink. “You know, my brother was responsible for the early dismissal today.”

“I pieced it together,” Jasmine said, spying the man in question across the bar. His stunt that afternoon had clearly earned him new admirers. Men still dressed in their factory finest were slapping him on the back, shoving icy bottles of Budweiser into his hand. There were women, too. Young women asking to take pictures with him, tossing their hair around the way people wave flags. A worm of jealousy crawled inside Jasmine, but she ordered it to get lost. On some faraway planet, where Sarge could become her boyfriend, he would be faithful. Unlike the men she’d dated before, her belief in his honesty was unshakable. How odd to have that kind of conviction in a man so young. But character didn’t evolve over time, did it? Sarge’s had always been there, always been intact.

“Everyone was asking me why he didn’t show up to his own party. I thought he was just being Sarge. You know, doing good things and not taking credit,” River continued, following Jasmine’s gaze. “Now I’m wondering if he pulled that whole thing off just to spend time with you.”

Dios, Jasmine wished for a drink so she’d have something to do with her hands. “No, he didn’t. That’s crazy.”

River’s regard didn’t waver. “How serious is it, Jas?”

The crowd seemed to get louder around her, elbows bumping, raucous laughter grating along her senses. “We just went to the mall,” she answered lamely, in the understatement of the year. “He…I sang. We sang for people at the mall.”

Her friend’s expression fell, as if Jasmine had imparted news of a major catastrophe. “Sarge got you to sing?”

Jasmine’s nod was jerky. She’d put on blinders to the importance of what took place in the toy store that afternoon, but having some breathing room from Sarge forced the pretense to drop. River knew too well that Jasmine hadn’t sung in years. Her voice had faded along with hope, a little more with every rejection. Sarge might not even realize what he’d done today, but he’d empowered Jasmine to take back what she’d allowed nameless faces to steal. God, she’d never felt more like herself than she had since Sarge came back to Hook. Maybe Jasmine should have been thrilled with the resurgence of confidence, but she wasn’t. Not when the man who’d held up a mirror and forced her to look at herself would be gone in a matter of days.

“Hey,” River prompted, worry plain on her face. “Is this…are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Someone pressed a drink into Jasmine’s hand, and she took it partly on reflex, but mostly out of gratefulness to have a distraction from her best friend’s scrutiny. “He’s leaving, right? It’ll take care of itself.”

When River’s blue eyes squeezed shut, Jasmine knew in her bones that Sarge stood behind her. Had been the one to bring her a drink. Jasmine wanted to sprint for the ladies’ room, but remained rooted to the ground. Sarge drew up beside her—not touching—and leaned over to kiss River’s cheek. “Hey, Riv.” His voice was strained. “Marcy with the sitter?”

“Yes.” River split a look between them before checking her watch. “My time is almost up, though. Fifteen minutes more and I’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

“You sure you’re heading home?” Sarge asked, his usual smile looking forced.

Jasmine watched with curiosity as her friend’s shoulders drooped. “W-where else would I be going?”

Sarge gave a slow headshake. “Nowhere. Let me get you a cab.”

“Already called one. See you both tomorrow.” River gave them both a hurried peck on the cheek, waving over her shoulder as the crowd swallowed her up.

“What was that about?” Jasmine asked, wondering what the hell she’d been missing. Had she been so caught up in the force that was Sarge, she’d let her best friend duties fall by the wayside? Unacceptable. “Sarge?”

He tipped back his Budweiser, throat working as he swallowed the hearty sip. “I stopped by the church today to see Adeline. She told me River has been working night shifts at some club.”

“What?”

“I take it you didn’t know, either.” He cast a glance toward the door where River exited. “Did you know Vaughn isn’t even aware of Marcy? River is doing all of this on her own and there might not be a need for it. He could help.”

Jasmine’s pulse slowed. “That was your sister’s decision, Sarge. You need to speak with her about it. Unless…it’s too late and you’ve already done something you can’t take back.”

Blue eyes bored into hers. “I had to. Not everything takes care of itself.”

The bowling ball tugging on Jasmine’s stomach lining gained around ten pounds when Sarge repeated the words she’d just said to River. About him. Somehow since walking into the bar, she’d disappointed two people who mattered like hell to her. “I’m sorry you heard that, but you’re taking it the wrong way.”

His laughter was devoid of humor. “There’s only one way to take it, Jas. This arrangement works for you because I’m getting gone. No muss, no fuss. No one in town the wiser.” He set his empty beer bottle down on one of the wobbly bar tables, exerting enough force to turn a couple heads. “That was the deal up front, though, wasn’t it? Nothing changed along the way.”

The way he said it suggested everything had changed. He knew it. He knew Jasmine knew it, too. Knew it deep in her gut that orange flickers had flamed into a fire. Instead of admitting the facts, though, self-preservation rose up and snatched the opportunity to protect her. “I was convenient for you, too.” She whispered for his ears alone. “It went both ways.”

“Convenient.” The word came out sounding choked. He took a step away from her, as if ending their conversation, but he came right back, eyes shooting sparks. She expected him to stop closing in, but he didn’t. Just kept coming until his breath was pelting her forehead. “You know, I actually thought I could get you out of my blood with a few nights in bed. But it was a goddamn fool’s mission. I’m the fool. I’ll admit that. Nothing will ever work—because you’re in me. And there’s nothing convenient about it.”

“Sarge—”

“I saw this coming. We’re in this fucking place ten minutes and you’re already talking about us in the past tense. What happened?”

She needed to step back before Sarge overwhelmed her. A voice in her head urged her toward him. Just leap. Just leap. Even in a bar full of people who would judge her, laugh at her for preying on a younger man. A man who’d earned all the glory she’d been so vocal about and confident she would obtain. Who cared, though, as long as he walked out beside her?

Those were dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that would lead her down a path to heartbreak. She’d be the only one left behind to field the fallout. “I need to use the bathroom,” she managed, backing away, a little surprised when Sarge let her go. With his determined face fresh and unfading in her mind, Jasmine leaned over the bathroom sink, the bass from the bar stereo matching her pumping heartbeat. There was a sense of impending doom in the atmosphere, and she couldn’t swim free of it. She just needed a night to sleep it off and face the Sarge situation with fresh eyes in the morning. Resolved to give Sarge her apartment keys, then call a cab to River’s—alone—Jasmine took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

Sarge was waiting in the dimness of the hallway. For a split second, Jasmine considered staying the course, walking the opposite direction toward the bar, instead of toward the bar’s back party room where Sarge stood. Waiting. His jaw was carved from granite, chest rising and falling with fast breaths. Dammit, he was pulling her in, beckoning her closer without even moving or speaking. But the need in his eyes spoke volumes. Sarge was as desperate as Jasmine was for oblivion, and it would only require taking a few steps to achieve it.

He tilted his head, pain evident in his voice. “Baby.”

No stopping it. She couldn’t even think past getting to him, jogging down the dark corridor and being caught up against his sturdy body. Before their mouths even met, one male hand tangled in her hair, drawing her in. Her legs twined around his waist because they couldn’t not. Without that intimacy between their bodies, she would capsize, sink, bottom out.

Sarge took a few uneven steps backward as their mouths feasted, bumping against the push-bar leading to the party room. And then they were in the unoccupied space, strewn with chairs and banquet tables. He unraveled her hair from his fist long enough to shove a metal chair under the door handle, barring anyone entrance. “Won’t leave with me, huh?” His palm slapped down on her bottom, making Jasmine break the kiss on a gasp, even as her legs tightened around his hips. “Did you think that would stop me, Jas?”

Jasmine was suffocating without his kiss, but he only nipped at her mouth, pulling back before she could get the real thing. “Sarge.”

“Answer me. Did you think I would rest until we got here tonight?” Another tug of her bottom lip with his teeth. “Wasn’t even sure I could get through an hour without our skin touching. Then all those hands on you, eyes on you. Goddammit. I have to fuck you, baby. Don’t you know how bad I need to fuck you? Answer me.”

He dropped her backside onto something cold and metal. She could only remove her focus from him long enough to find herself propped on the tray rest of an empty buffet station. “Yes. I know.”

“You can’t know.” He slid his hands up her thighs, shoved them apart with a growl. Snapping blue eyes focused on her core, his big, blunt-fingered hands unzipping his jeans, pulling the zipper lower, lower…to reveal his ready male flesh. Jasmine’s breath caught as Sarge shoved down the hindering denim and took the almost cumbersome erection in his hand with a groan. “All for one woman. She can do this to me just by breathing. Putting on lip balm. Laughing. Singing. Pulling her hair back. Does that sound convenient to you?”

Jasmine was trembling head to toe, but managed to shake her head. That response didn’t satisfy Sarge—or this amped-up version of Sarge, rather, that loomed above her, stroking his flesh and looking her over. Hungry, so hungry, to feel his most private pulse beating in her palm, she reached out to replace his hand. Before she could satisfy the urge, Sarge gripped Jasmine’s hips and hauled her off the buffet, spinning her around a second later to wrench the jeans down her body.

Open mouth moving through her hair, his harsh breaths heated her scalp. “I’m going to show you convenient. When we’re done, you’ll think convenient means well-fucked by Sarge.” He lifted Jasmine with an arm around the waist to remove her jeans fully, kicking them aside and setting her back down. His casual show of strength sent her belly into a series of backflips, releasing a flow of warmth between her thighs. She pressed her bottom back into his lap, silk thong against hard flesh, purring when he reached around to fondle her.

Jasmine planted her hands on the metal rack and looked back at Sarge, watching his eyes glaze over at the way she moved, swaying and popping her hips like a private dancer. “Can I have you like this, mi rey?”

“I’m your king again, am I? No. You can’t have it yet.” He fit his erection into the valley of her bottom and bucked. Hard. “Not until you need a pump of my dick so bad, you’re clawing at my ass like a trapped wildcat.”

Jasmine was still moaning at the imagery of that when Sarge turned her again, already applying the condom to his arousal. She pitched right on unsteady legs, but Sarge caught her elbow, dragging her into the heat of his body. The desperation radiating from him was so thick, she moved without conscious thought, lifting his T-shirt to lick his abdomen, his pectorals. “Please, I want you.”

“Good, baby. You’re about to take me.” His promise still hung in the air when Sarge scooped Jasmine off the ground, one arm banded around the small of her back. The move dragged her body up his arousal, stopping when it met the apex of her legs, its weight settling against the inside of her thigh. Anticipation blinded Jasmine, but she could feel his touch slide down her buttocks, felt him guiding his erection right where she welcomed it with damp heat. His chest absorbed Jasmine’s throaty scream as he filled her in one savage upward jerk of his hips.

Craving leverage, craving movement, Jasmine expected Sarge to back her up into the buffet and give it to her hard. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent his knees just slightly, making it possible to stand on her barest tiptoes. Gone was every ounce of sweetness from Sarge, replaced with dirty, wicked lust. A hint of menace.

She tried to wrap her legs around him, climb up, seeking some kind of anchor that would give her the freedom to chase release. Satisfy them both. But Sarge shook his head, brushing their panting mouths together. “You were the first woman I ever stroked off thinking about, Jasmine. Again. And again. Until I couldn’t even hear your name without locking myself in the closest room.” His callused hands massaged her bottom with punishing force. “Turns out I got it right that first time, though. Didn’t I? This babysitter’s pussy tastes just like sugar.” A savoring noise ripped from his throat. “Tight enough to strangle a man.”

Jasmine’s legs turned to liquid, making her slip and impale herself more fully on Sarge’s length. Broken Spanish fell from her mouth. She tried once more unsuccessfully to climb Sarge’s body, but he slapped her bottom for making the effort.

“Time to return the favor, Jasmine.” He angled his upper half away, his heated gaze tracking down to where their bodies connected. “Stroke yourself off to me now. While I watch.” Another rough spank of her backside, the sound so delicious they both had to close their eyes. “I won’t move. But you better. Starting now. Now, Jasmine.”

Chapter Thirteen

Sarge felt control slipping through his fingers. Jasmine didn’t deserve to be punished for his obsession. Didn’t deserve to be denied the swiftest route to climax. But frustration had built inside him, snowballing from the time they’d walked into the Third Shift. How could he act normal, carry on conversations, when his hands were shaking with the need to be on Jasmine? Not just so he could hold her down and give pleasure. No. He’d wanted to walk in holding her hand. Wanted to look every man in the eye and let them know their chances with Jasmine had been knocked down to zero percent.

Being denied that right had started the bomb ticking in his stomach. But hearing the flippant way she dismissed their relationship had caused the explosion. There was a lurking sense of dread, too, but it felt too good being angry, so he ignored the warning voice calling for him to slow down. Telling him he couldn’t allow shrapnel from the bomb blast to ruin the progress he’d made. Listening meant stopping, though, and it felt too good giving Jasmine a taste of what he’d endured.

“Please,” she sobbed, pushing up on her toes. “I can’t get high enough.”

As far as Sarge was concerned, she was doing goddamn perfect. His cock was lodged in tightness; Jasmine was making these sexy whining noises every time he disallowed her legs from gaining leverage around his hips. Her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, but every time she tried to pull herself up, Sarge shook her grip loose. His light hold on her bottom kept her from falling, but it wasn’t enough to seat her at a satisfying angle. And God help him, watching her struggle to get on top of his dick had him turned on to the point of pain. Good pain, though. Pain that distracted him from the one she’d created in his chest.

“Come on, baby.” Sarge bent his knees just long enough for Jasmine to ride him hard for a few seconds, before straightening again, his movement dragging her back onto tiptoes. “It feels good when I’m deep, doesn’t it? When you’re stretching to get all of me in?”

“Yes,” Jasmine moaned. “Please. I need more.”

“You need more? Work for it. I can feel your clit…all wet and swollen. Rub her on me. Let her feel my tip.” Sarge gave a shallow thrust of his hips. “You’ve made my cock hard for years, now you’re going to fuck yourself on it, Jasmine. When it starts to hurt, think of me waiting until everyone was asleep on the tour bus before jerking off to a memory. Stroking so hard I couldn’t breathe, thinking of that peek I got of your pussy. That’s what hurt looks like. When you can only get off on something you’ve never had.”

Sarge bit back a roar when Jasmine’s fingers dug into the flesh of his ass, yanking him forward as she rolled her hips. The move inched him further into her snug pussy, while still keeping him only partially sheathed. They were locked in the dirtiest dance of all time, Jasmine working her clit against the head of his dick, her slender thighs sliding up and down his hairy, more muscular ones. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Fuck. He was losing his own battle now. Watching, hearing, feeling Jasmine’s frantic use of his erection to masturbate herself was the hottest sight Sarge had witnessed in his life. Every few seconds, she managed to push high enough on her toes to take another inch of him. But each time, her thighs immediately shot up to get more and he’d block their progress with resolute hands. Then…Lord. She started sinking her teeth into his shoulders and chest for denying her. Started pouting in a way that made him feel like a dirty man doing bad things, making him even harder. Making his balls draw high and heavy. She started bucking like an unbroken pony, forehead digging into his chest as she moaned.

The slick slide of her pussy up and down the top third of his cock, her desperate clawing at his ass—the way she jerked him forward—grew to be too much. Jasmine might have put him through hell—most of the time without realizing it—but denying the down and dirty fucking they both required was punishing him in the process. Just a little longer…just a little so he wouldn’t forget how gorgeous she looked, forget how bad she wanted him tonight.

And then she sobbed. A shuddering sound full of misery, and his heart rebelled, sinking straight down to his stomach. His hands sank into her hair, smoothing the strands and tilting her head back. When Sarge glimpsed her face, he stopped breathing. If he could see through Jasmine’s eyes at that moment, he knew their surroundings would be blurry. She seemed unable to focus, her head falling back as if unhinged from her neck. There was a row of teeth marks on her bottom lip that appeared on the verge of bleeding. And the pain in her eyes…pain he’d caused. No no no.

“Please,” she murmured. “I can’t…I need—”

Sarge cut her off with his mouth, his own focus wavering at the taste of her. God. Had it been years or minutes since he kissed her? Getting enough wasn’t a possibility. Never. Not with his mouth or his body. Groaning at the way her pussy flexed around him as their mouths wrestled for a good taste, Sarge gripped Jasmine beneath the knees and spread her legs, lifting and propping them on his hips.

Sinking down onto him—finally—she screamed into his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you hurt. Going to fuck it better, baby. Going to pump until you come.” He walked them backward so he could reach past her hip, propping one hand on the metal buffet, supporting her ass with the other. Already she was starting to ride his cock, clinging to his upper body while grinding down on him like a goddess. “Give me a twist on the way back up—ahhh fuck. That’s it, you tight little thing. Working my dick like a goddamn stripper pole, aren’t you? You have any idea how hard I’m going to come?”

Her breath released in a hot gust at his ear. “Me first.”

Sarge’s laugh transformed into a deep grunt as her pace changed, grew more erratic. Jasmine’s thighs were spread so wide, she was doing the splits on his lap, that fine-as-hell backside undulating on his pressing forearm. Sarge matched her fevered pace, driving himself up and into her squeezing heat, his thrusts so savage he worried he might hurt her. But she only bit his neck and whimpered for more. Not enough, though. It wasn’t enough. He needed her secured somewhere so he could slam into her willing pussy and forget his own fucking name.

As if she could read his mind, she gripped his hair, leaned back and moaned. “Yes. Harder. More.”

“Never stop saying that to me.” Sarge pinned Jasmine’s ass to the metal buffet’s edge and hooked both arms beneath her knees. He took a moment to savor how she looked, breathless and begging for his assault, before ramming home. Even as she gasped his name, her body remained stationary, finally allowing his cock deep as possible. “Feel how I belong here, baby? Feel how we fit together?” Sarge rolled his hips back and rocked forward, pushing, pushing until his balls strained at her entrance. “It’s never felt right before now—and you know it. No way this is wrong. No way I wasn’t meant to own this part of you. Every fucking part.”

“Yes.” Jasmine breathed the word, head falling back as Sarge started to thrust. He jarred her body with each collision of their bodies, bouncing her tits inside her shirt. “Oh my God. So good, so good, so good.”

Sarge’s spine began to tingle, growing tight at the base. He gave an irritated headshake, pissed that his need for Jasmine continued to end their encounters too soon, although he suspected any amount of time would be too soon with her. Trying to conjure a distasteful image that might delay his oncoming climax didn’t work, either. There was nothing but Jasmine in his universe. Nothing.

Craving her gorgeous brown eyes on him, needing to go over the edge together, Sarge leaned in and kissed her mouth. He drew back as the kiss’s fervor increased, bringing her with him, before pulling away. Holding her attention, Sarge propped her right leg over his shoulder to free his hand. Then he licked his thumb and stroked it over her clit, holding her steady when she jerked.

“Ah God, Jasmine. You look so good with my cock sliding in and out between those legs. You know your knees shake every time I hit your limit?” He thumbed her clit, sliding back and forth over the tight nub, his hips starting to piston out of pure necessity. “That’s right. Every time I find the back of your pussy, you vibrate like I hit a button.”

“Again, again.” On cue, a shiver ran through her limbs. “So close.”

“Me, too. Fuck. Me, too.” Jasmine flung her other leg over Sarge’s shoulder, leaving both feet hovering, the added depth tearing a growl from his lips. “Fuck, that’s tight, baby. So tight for me.” This was it. He couldn’t hold back. Pain between his legs. A relentless, driving, throbbing ache. “Tell me your fucking legs are up in the air because you want my come. Pout for it. Let me see that little pout.”

The excitement in her eyes was almost enough to knock Sarge into oblivion, but then she frowned, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, her tits still bouncing from the force his drives. “Please, please, Sarge. Ay que rico. I want it inside m-me.”

She climaxed on the final word and Sarge sprinted after, their wet, spasming flesh slapping together as strangled moans rent the air. Oxygen eluded him…he couldn’t pull enough into his lungs. A series of images flashed on the backs of his eyelids. The first time he’d met Jasmine in his living room and spent the night wondering about her. Jasmine laughing as she jumped off the community pool diving board. Jasmine singing beside him at the mall, her voice clear and rich. She was it for him. Always had been. His head buzzed and spun with urgency. On the heels of an orgasm that had stripped the remains of his filter, Sarge could process only one fact. If he didn’t keep her, he’d never be happy a day in his life. Not now. Not after knowing and loving her at this stage of his life. Solidifying what he’d always known.

“I love you, Jasmine.” His body deflated against her as the words were released. Relief. So much relief at finally saying them. Getting them out of his chest where they’d been held prisoner for so long. They meant more now, though. This wasn’t a crush or an infatuation—every minute in her company confirmed it. He’d loved Jasmine then and he loved her more now. “I’ve always, always loved you. I’m not going anywhere, do you understand me? I’m staying here with you.”

Jasmine’s first reaction was joy. A rush of happiness so strong, she could never harness it or make it manageable. It was a fist around her heart, pumping the blood without her assistance. Taking the responsibility of staying alive away from her. When a man like Sarge loved you with such ferocity, surely that love could sustain you on its own.

But she came down hard. She crashed to earth with broken bones, wondering why her parachute hadn’t opened and softened the fall. I’ve always, always loved you.

How could she want that love and feel the unshakable need to run away at the same time? It was like walking in on the third act of a play and trying to discern each player’s motivation, except there was only one player and his arms were banded around her so tight, she thought he might be trying to meld them together. A significant part of her wanted that joining to take place, but another more prominent part was scared to death. She’d allowed him to overwhelm her with every word, every touch. Now it was time to remove the blinders. And with that removal, every insecurity she’d slowly managed to suppress throughout the last few days rained down on her head.

Sarge couldn’t want this woman she’d become, whose idea of a Friday night was warm beer in a shitty bar, fingernails still sooty from her factory job. This fantasy relationship would be over as soon as he realized he’d saddled himself with a never-was. Because Sarge Purcell, rock star, was the exact opposite. He’d made it.

It was up to Jasmine to make sure he didn’t make this mistake. She…she would be the mistake. She couldn’t compete with the bright lights and adoration he’d grown accustomed to since getting free of Hook.

Jasmine dug her fingernails into her palm, pressing until pain bloomed behind her eyes. “What do you mean you’re staying?”

Sarge’s head came up, wariness deepening the blue of his eyes at her tone of voice. God, he was beautiful, his dark hair a wreck, mouth red and shiny from kissing. “I mean I’m staying in Hook. I won’t leave you. I can’t.”

His statements were little iron hooks digging into her organs. “Don’t make promises in the heat of the moment. You’re too good a person not to keep them.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “What about the part when I told you I love you, Jas? Let me know if you’re planning on ignoring it, so I can say the words again. And again. Until you can’t.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy. Had there been any doubt of that? Since he’d arrived, he’d come at her like a freight train, giving her no escape paths or places to burrow. “I heard you. I also heard you say always.”

“That’s right.”

Jasmine expelled a quick breath, immediately wanting to draw it back into her lungs. She couldn’t spare any oxygen when Sarge was sucking it all up. “You’ve been gone for four years. I’m not the same girl you think you love.”

“Bullshit. You are that girl. Just like there’s still some of the old Sarge still trapped inside me. We don’t get away from our pasts, and if I’ve learned one damn thing, it’s that we shouldn’t always try. Not when they’re the only thing that ever made you feel right.”

“No!” The word emerged as a shout, laced with panic. Everything he said was designed to pull her under the surface, but she needed to kick for them both. Sarge was too young, too good, too everything to realize he was trying to doom himself. “I can’t live up to the idea you have of me. I’m sorry, but you want something I can’t give.”

His hands slid down her arms and crashed onto the metal buffet. “Dammit, Jasmine. You’re not giving either of us enough credit. You are that girl I loved. But you’re also this woman I love, and I want her, too. This woman who doesn’t blink at a bar fight. This woman whose voice got even more beautiful than the one I hear in my dreams. This woman I’m looking at right now. I need her.”