Take What You Want

Dedication

To my editor, Jennifer Miller, for everything she’s taught me, to Brighton Walsh and Kat Watson for their beta-reading insights, and to my Bad Girls for all their love and support.

Chapter One

Saturday

He looked good, Ellen thought. Maybe too good? Tall and lean, with short, dark hair and high cheekbones. The kind of unintentional stubble that just barely shadowed his jaw.

She’d been watching him for half an hour now, sizing up the way his long fingers traced around the rim of his pint glass, the set of his shoulders as he leaned against the bar. He spoke to no one but the bartender, and no one spoke to him.

Normally, she would never have approached him. But it wasn’t a normal night. She tipped back the rest of her drink, then stood and took the first few unsteady steps across the room. Her shoes were new, the heels cruel, and while she hadn’t done much walking, her feet were already sore. Her skirt and top were all new, too.
She
was new.

After all, if she couldn’t afford a trip for spring break, she could at least afford to make her week alone interesting.

As she made her way toward him, she pushed her chest out and worked to keep her footing as she swayed her hips. She’d been to this bar a couple times before, but the whole place looked different, drained of the usual crush of hard-up students. Half the seats were empty, and the ones that were full were taken up by people who just seemed…out of place. Locals who didn’t usually bother with the student dives. People who had grown up here, home from college for spring break.

And her. And him.

He didn’t look up as she got closer, and for a second her nerves almost got the best of her. She pushed through it, though, put her hand on the bar next to him and cleared her throat. “Hey.”

His head jerked up, but on the way his gaze got stuck, focusing first on the tops of her thighs, then on the curves of her hips, the cinch of her waist. Somewhere around her breasts, his cheeks got red and his eyes wide.

She smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

More confident now, she spoke up again. “Hello?”

“Hi.” He snapped his gaze up to meet her eyes, and if it was possible his got even wider, the clear green of them flashing with something Ellen couldn’t quite identify.

Especially not when she was busy staring herself. Up close, he looked better than good. Those eyes…

Somehow, she found the presence of mind to extend her hand. “I’m Ellen.”

His one eyebrow quirked up, but after a second he responded, “Josh.” He took her hand in his as he half rose from his seat. His grip was firm, his skin was soft but not too soft. A thinking man’s hands.

Which, considering his age, made him a student, too? Maybe one of the ones visiting home for the break, sitting here alone at a bar to get away from his parents. God knew, back when she used to go home, that was how things tended to go for Ellen after a day or two.

She curled her hand around his, lingering, skin against skin. “Nice to meet you.” Gesturing to the seat next to him, she asked, “May I?”

“Sure. Of course.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. It looked good. Sexy.

Removing her hand from his slowly, she pulled the chair out and folded herself into it, taking care to cross her legs. Her skirt was riding up as it was, probably giving him one hell of a view. He sat down, too, and she turned to him, smiling her flirtiest smile. Sticking to her plan, she asked, “So, can I buy you a drink?”

He smirked, but in a way that was more playful than offended. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Not tonight.”

Nothing was going by the typical rules tonight.

He stared at her levelly for a long moment, his eyes probing. With the set of his jaw just so, it seemed like there was a question on his tongue, something he wanted to say. But in the end, all he said was, “Sure. Ellen.”

She liked the way he said her name. Like he knew her.

Smiling, she turned toward the bar and motioned for the bartender. “Vodka and cranberry. And a…” She looked to Josh.

“Sam Adams.”

When the bartender returned with their drinks, she paid. Josh shook his head slightly but accepted the drink, raised it to his lips and sipped slowly. Ellen slipped the straw for hers into her mouth and took a quick pull. As she did, she kicked her leg back and forth. It was a nervous habit, her one tell.

It was a fortuitous one, too, as her foot connected with the solid warmth of his calf. Her heart hammered as a flash of pleasure at the touch rushed through her. For a second, he pressed back against her, and so she let herself stay like that, connected to him beneath the bar.

It felt like an offer. And an acceptance.

“So.” Her voice was lower than usual, her throat just a little rough. “You a student?”

He furrowed his brow, and when he answered, he did so slowly. “Yes. You?”

The truth almost bubbled out of her, but she stopped it. She wasn’t herself tonight, not the usual shy pre-med who hid behind her hair. With a flash of a smile, she substituted a half-truth in its place. “Waitress.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yup.”

“Where?”

There was something disbelieving to his tone, but she ignored it as she told him, honestly, “Park Diner.” Watching his expression, she took another sip of her drink. “You been there?”

“Once or twice, I think.”

“Pity. It’s a dump.”

“But I hear the wait staff is nice.”

She laughed and leaned toward him. “Depends on the day.” Pretending to sway, she reached out and caught herself, planted her hand on his thigh.

He smelled good. Felt better.

“Careful, there.” His voice was entirely too close and yet not close enough, his breath a hot rush against her ear. He steadied her with a hand on her bare arm.

“Thanks.”

She shivered as his fingertips trailed along her skin before falling away. She took her hand off his leg and sat up straight, her insides fluttering at the feel of his warmth against her spine as he draped his arm over the back of her chair. There was something possessive about it. Something claiming.

Why had she been so afraid of this before?

She turned her head to face him and found him right there, staring at her. His eyes were so
green
. So clear.

“So,” she said.

“So.”

She didn’t back away at all as she brought her glass to her mouth, intentionally pursing her lips before wrapping them around the straw. Cold and raw, the liquor burned in just the right way. She darted her gaze from the red liquid to his eyes and down again.

“You enjoying your visit?” she asked breathily, fishing.

His one eyebrow lifted again before settling back into place. “I always do.”

There was more small talk to make. More getting-to-know-you to do. But she didn’t want to.

Really, what was the point?

She placed her hand on his thigh again, her fingers edging higher this time. “Want to enjoy it even more?”

There was something almost too intense about his expression. His hand shifted to settle on the nape of her neck as he dropped to murmur in her ear, “I promise, I wouldn’t be the only one enjoying myself.”

Her whole body trembled, and she closed her eyes against the surge of heat.

“My place is right around the corner.”

He was out of his seat in an instant, his fingers threading themselves through hers as he pulled her up to join him. “Lead the way.”

She would. For the first time ever, she would.

Gripping his hand, she headed toward the door.

The first step of her plan was complete.

She’d left the light on over her stove, but otherwise, her apartment was dark. After locking the door behind them, she dragged him toward her bedroom, skipping the rows of shelves and knickknacks in the living room, the questions they could spawn. She’d hidden her books away, just in case, but she didn’t trust herself to stick to her story. She didn’t want to be faced with too much of herself.

In the safety of her room, she plugged in the string of Christmas lights that ran along the edges of her mirror, then took a deep breath and turned to him.

He looked even better than he had in the bar. Lean and wiry, with a long neck and a face to match. He was taller than she’d expected, which was good. Everything was good.

Reaching up, she placed her hand over his chest, feeling the solidity of it. Her throat felt dry with the contact and with the thickness of the air, the faint hum of static as she closed the distance. He was here, in her apartment, with only the bare minimum of words exchanged.

She tipped up her face to look at him and brushed her lips across his jaw. With all the confidence she never had before, she asked, quietly, “You want me?”

His breathing hitched, his hands flexing at his sides once before he placed them on her hips. “I do.”

Her whole center went liquid, molten heat rushing with the touch of her fingers on his cheek, urging him down. When their mouths met, it was soft and tentative, like a question. She opened to him and swept her tongue over his lip, and he groaned, finally gripping hard where she was soft, pulling her flush against his body. His mouth was warm, tasted of flesh and sex, all tinged with the yeast of his beer as he kissed back.

She slid her hand down the rough-soft skin of his cheek to the smoothness of his throat. At the V of his neckline, she slipped one button after another loose, each time brushing her knuckles over newly bared skin. Once she reached the bottom, she pressed her palm just once against the full swell of him through his jeans. Even through the denim, he felt hard, long and thick. The raw sound in the back of his throat spurred her on, but then he was gripping her wrist, pulling her hand away from him.

“Not yet.” He trailed down to grasp her palm and rubbed it with his thumb before placing it against his abdomen. The muscles there were firm. Nice.

After another wet kiss, he cupped her breast through her shirt, massaging gently, stroking a thumb over the peak. “Can I?”

She nodded and helped him pull the fabric up over her head. When he reached for the clasp of her bra, she followed his example and shook her head, redirecting his hands to her breasts and pushing the cups aside. He crouched before her, and she melted, panting out a low whine when he took her nipple between his lips.

“That feels—”

“Good?” he asked.

She pushed her hand into his hair to hold him there. His lips pursed around her, warm and soft, his stubble just right against her skin, but he didn’t linger. He sank to his knees and slid his hands down her sides, curling his fingertips just under the waistband of her skirt and rubbing back and forth as he kissed beside her navel. And then he looked up at her.

She’d thought his eyes were nice before. Staring up at her with his mouth parted, lips pressed to her skin…

“Yes,” she whispered. He hadn’t asked. But the answer was yes.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, encompassing her somehow. He found the zipper at the back of her skirt and tugged, pulled it down. With her help, he shoved the denim to her knees until it fell of its own volition, and then his fingers were in her panties, his lips pressed to damp lace. She shuddered and closed her eyes, then let him take those off her, too.

There was a soft, wet slide along the cleft of her sex, something so surprising. “What—”

He was looking up at her from between her legs, his lips damp. No one ever…

Normally, she would have pushed him off, would have blushed and declined. No one had ever done that for her, but no one had ever looked at her like that, either. Like they were lost in her. And she wasn’t doing anything normally.

She swallowed hard and touched his hair. “Do I taste good?”

“Perfect.”

He swiped his tongue over her clit again, with the same lush softness. The same electricity.

A spark flashed through his eyes.

With one more kiss against the hollow of her hip, he stood, pushing his shirt off as he rose. She watched the flex of lean muscle, reached to trace the smooth skin. This time, when he grasped her hand, it was to place it firmly over his erection. Any uncertainty she’d felt in him before was gone. Like he’d decided something, there on his knees with his face against her sex.