Exposed: A British Bad Boy Romance (8 page)

I regret ever telling him about that.

“You’re such a dick,” I mutter.

“Not fond of that option, eh? Alright, we’ll go with the
unwholesome
answer: I’m hoping to get another shot at making you cum with my fingers inside of you and my name on your lips. Do you prefer that answer, darling?”

Even though there’s no one there to witness my reaction to his words, I’m ashamed of it. Ashamed of the molten excitement brought on by his crude words and sensual voice. Ashamed at the images his words conjure in my mind.

And ashamed that I know I won’t stop him next time…

“No,” I lie in a whisper.

He’s laughing at me, but it barely registers past the furious roar of my pulse in my ears.

“Sure, luv. Whatever you say. I’m going to text you an address, see you in an hour?”

I’m grinding my teeth again as I say “Fine.”

What choice do I have?

If I want to have any hope of getting out of the realm of puff pieces and scandalized celebrities, I’m going to have to knock this one out of the park.

And that requires Jasper’s cooperation.

That’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. As I get primped and ready for lunch with Jasper, I’m telling myself over and over again that this is for my career. For serious journalism.

Not
to kiss him again.
Not
to feel his fingers slide over my breasts. And certainly
not
because I want him to make me come.

Nope.

Not at all.

That’s convincing, right?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jasper

I
t’s nearly noon and the day has grown remarkably warm. I’m sitting on the patio of this little Jamaican shack Ricardo told me I just had to try.

Of course, my mind is nowhere near food right now. I’m drumming my fingers on the uneven table before me, turning my head at every movement to see if it’s Suzette.

From around the corner, she appears and my heart skids to a halt. Her golden hair is pulled over her shoulder in a tidy plait and she’s got a pair of those ridiculous over-sized sunglasses that girls wear. My eyes skim past the colorful halter top down to the perfectly-fitted little white shorts and I groan.

Her legs look like they just go on forever and I keep fucking picturing them wrapped around my waist as I plunge deep inside her.

Fucking hell
.

She pulls the sunglasses off and it’s like a slow motion scene from a bloody movie as she puts them atop her head, spots me, and a slow smile spreads her lips.

That smile couldn’t possibly be for me, could it?

Susie walks over and because I’m a fucking idiot that doesn’t know how to handle himself, I stand and pull her seat out for her. She looks at me as if I’ve sprouted another head — I’m not typically known for my chivalry — and then mutters a word of thanks as she sits.

I retake my seat across from her and find that my knee is jerking restlessly.

What the ever-loving hell is going on with me?

“I hope this place is good. I’m
starving
,” she says, poring over the menu.

“It comes on high recommendation,” I say, my fingers still drumming on the table. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that I’m nervous.

But that can’t be right.

When was the last time I was nervous?

I couldn’t even fucking say. I’ve been a cocky prick my whole life, never at a loss for self-assured egotism.

But now, with this girl… I’m fucking losing it.

She looks up from the menu and narrows her eyes.

“Holy shit,” she says, jerking across the table to grab my hand and pull it towards her, “I forgot about the tattoo!”

Her fingertips barely brush over the half-finished design and my other hand balls into a fist under the table as blood pulses through my veins and I’m rock fucking hard for her already.

“How could you possibly forget about the tattoo, luv?”

She looks up at me with humor sparkling in her wide eyes, “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

I shrug, “According to you, I didn’t. After all, it’s only
almost
finished.”

Susie opens her mouth for a retort and then clamps it shut instead. Perhaps I’ve won for the moment, but she’s not giving up yet.

Good.

She makes a show of turning her attention back to the menu to ignore me and I shrug, doing the same. She’s here to ask me questions. She’ll undoubtedly crack before I do.

The waiter comes, takes our order and brings our drinks before Susie finally breaks.

“You seemed pretty comfortable on TV this morning,” she says, stirring the ice in her tea.

“Not my first time,” I say with a shrug.

She frowns, “You certainly didn’t seem to have any problems answering
Julie Bryant’s
questions,” she says, like the name leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

I chuckle, “Jealous, are we?”

She wrinkles her nose, “No. I just don’t understand why you have to be such an uncooperative pain in the ass with me and the absolute picture of debonair charm with her.”

“You
are
jealous,” I say, nudging her with my foot under the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “I’m just tired of you making my job more difficult than it needs to be.”

I fold my arms in front of my chest and give her a hard look, “Well, alright then, ask your questions.”

She straightens in her seat and breaks a little notepad out of her purse. Why that simple gesture makes me smile is a mystery to me.

“What are your influences? Culinary and otherwise, I mean.”

“Is that really what you want to know about me, Suzette?” I counter before I can think better of it.

I don’t know why part of me is disappointed. I wanted her to ask me something… meaningful, provocative maybe. I wanted Susie to be different from the legion of other journalists with identical questions.

She frowns and straightens her posture, clearly trying to assert herself, “I think it’s an important piece of information to build the bigger picture of who you are, yes.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, “Well, alright. We’ll be boring. I take my inspiration from my life, really. Things I enjoy, things I don’t. I like to try to change things I don’t like into something I do. I like to surprise people with what they’ll enjoy. Even if they never saw themselves doing so.”

She raises her eyebrows, never looking away from me as I speak, never writing a word of it down. I see her mind whirring behind those wide eyes and I know she has something on the tip of her tongue by the part of her lips and the sharp rapid rise of her chest.

Why the hell is it so fun to make her thoughts turn to the gutter?

When she doesn’t say anything at all, I continue, “For example, I’m sure you never expected to be sitting across from me imagining all the wicked things I could do to you, did you?”

Something hot flashes in her eyes and I think she’s going to deny it, so I plow forward without pause, “And though you never expected to, I’m quite certain you’re enjoying those undoubtedly explicit imaginings, aren’t you, Susie?”

She’s on the verge of answering and fulfilling all of my fucking fantasies when the waiter returns with our food and she’s saved.

“Holy shit,” she says, taking a huge whiff of the oxtail set before her, “this smells incredible.”

“Enjoy,” the waiter says with a huge smile reserved just for Susie. I’m just going to ignore that sudden urge to
growl
at him like I’m staking my claim.

She takes her first mouthful and
moans
in a wholly inappropriate way, her eyes rolling back in her head for a moment of pure bliss.

What I wouldn’t give to see that expression with my cock buried in her…

“You’ve gotta try this. It’s freaking amazing,” she says, pushing her fork towards me. It slides into my mouth effortlessly and then I’m the one groaning in pleasure.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right with that,” I say before digging into my own plate.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got to try this,” I say, pushing a fork full of curried goat towards her.

She takes the bite and gives me two thumbs up with a big grin.

The moment between us is just so easy and natural that I’m wondering why it isn’t always like this. What’s in our way?

You, you fucking twat.

I must be wearing all of my glum thoughts on my face because Susie’s grin fades into a frown and she’s nudging me under the table, “What’s wrong?”

I plaster a smile on my face and shake it off, “Nothing at all, luv.”

She’s not buying it, but then she gives me that smile that makes my heart screech to a stop, “I know — you’re upset because you realize that you’ll never be able to cook as well as this guy.”

I clutch at my chest and make a pained face, “Wow, that really stings, Suzette. You’ve never even tasted one of my creations.”

She shrugs, “How good can it be really? I mean, this guy’s incredible and he’s a nobody. You’re not famous for your cooking, Jasper, anyone can cook.”

“Is that so?” I have to say, I’m a little amused by her bravado, even if I don’t think she has a leg to stand on.

“It is. You’re not special for being able to make food. People like you for completely… different reasons. Though I’m not sure what those reasons are.”

I raise an eyebrow, “So in your opinion, anyone can do what I do? Even you?”

“I— Well,” she falters, looking suspicious of agreeing too readily, “Yeah, with a recipe and stuff, sure. Anyone could do it.”

I lean back with a smug smile, “So it’s settled then. You’ll make me dinner this evening. I look forward to it.”

“Tonight?” she sputters, taking long pulls from her iced tea before she manages to recover. “I don’t—” she’s going to refuse, I just know it. I already feel my smile fading.

Then she sighs, “I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough,” I say, a glimmer of hope dancing inside of me.

What in the ever-loving fuck?
This woman is some kind of sorceress.

“You still have a question to ask me, luv,” I remind her, tapping the blank notebook in front of her.

Her eyes flash hard as steel and I brace myself, “Why did you take me home and tuck me in last night?”

“Ah, well,” I clasp my hands and rest my chin against them, “I suppose I should have specified that you have a yes or no question to ask me.”

“Jasper…” she says with a warning tone, a solid determined set to her jaw.

I sigh, realizing I’ve done more than enough to irritate her and I could at least
try
to be a proper gentleman.

Yeah right.

“Well, I was hoping to get you into bed in an entirely different manner…”

She purses her lips and folds her arms impatiently, “Bullshit. Alisha said you were the perfect gentleman.”

“For christ’s sake, keep your voice down. I have a reputation,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. “It seemed like the proper thing to do. What do you want from me, Suzette?”

Without missing a beat, she says “And were you talking about me on Wake Up America, this morning?”

I groan and toss my head back with a laugh, “Yes. Of course I was — I don’t really have women handing their knickers to me. With the exception of you, of course.”

She grits her teeth together and an angry flush creeps to her cheeks, “My god, Suzette, I didn’t think you so insecure to need this sort of validation.”

“And I didn’t think you were such a coward that you have to deflect attention away from anything that might make you look like an actual
human
.”

She’s got you there, lad
.

“If I wanted to talk about my feelings I’d go to a licensed professional. The next time I care about
Taylor Swift’s
new boyfriend or which
Kardashian
is pregnant now, I’ll come talk to you.”

She sucks her teeth and throws her napkin on the table.

Shit, I’ve gone too far again, haven’t I?

I’m waiting for the moment when I end up with Jamaican in my lap, but it doesn’t come.

“Well, it seems we can both agree that we don’t want to work together, so let’s agree to get it over with as soon as possible.”

“Fine by me,” I say, wanting to pull the words back the moment they leave my mouth. “What do you have in mind?”

“You wanted to do dinner tonight. I’ll just get everything I need then and we can be done with one another.” She stands and I do the same for reasons unclear to me.

Why are you letting her get so cross? You can end this, you arse.

“I’ll give you what you need anytime, Suzette,” I say with a suggestion in my voice.

To my surprise, she smiles, “I’m going to be
so
relieved to be done with you.”

I’d feel better if she just went and bludgeoned me with a rolling pin.

“I aim to please,” I say instead, keeping my mask of cool indifference.

She ‘hmphs’ at me and says “I’ll see you tonight then.”

I nod and then she’s gone, leaving this empty gnawing ache in her place.

Son of a bitch
.