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The first sexy contemporary romance in Sara Jane Stone’s brand new Second Shot series!
Five years ago, Josie Fairmore left timber country in search of a bright future. Now she’s back home with a mountain of debt and reeling from a loss that haunts
her. Desperate for a job, she turns to the one man she wishes she could avoid. The man who rocked her world one wild night and then walked right out of it.
Marine veteran, Noah Tager is managing his dad’s bar and holding tight to the feeling that his time overseas led to failure. The members of his small town think he’s a war hero, but after everything he’s witnessed, Noah doesn’t want a pat on the back. The only thing he desires is a second chance with his best friend’s
little sister.
Josie’s determined to hold onto her heart and not repeat her mistakes, but when danger arrives on Noah’s doorstep and takes aim at Josie, they just might discover that sometimes love is worth the risk.
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Chapter
18
Josie
understood grief. She could navigate the fog that descended when the
bad news bears arrived and delivered their doom and gloom message.
Your
brother has been injured.
Your
brother needs surgery.
She
had heard those words and the haze had swallowed her. There was no
way out. She knew that. The bears stood guard, keeping her locked in
fear and anguish.
Until
Noah kissed her.
One
kiss from a man who was fighting the same fears didn’t change a
thing. But oh God, it felt so good. The touch of his lips, the feel
of his hands pulling at her shirt as if he needed to touch the skin
beneath . . .
Her
body responded, demanding more, needing to feel more. She ran her
hands over the smooth skin of his broad back, down to his waist and
around to his chiseled abs. Her tongue touched his as she traced her
fingers over his six-pack. So
much strength.
Gliding
her hands upward, she pressed her palms flat against his chest, dimly
aware of his fingers toying with the button on her pants. He tugged
at her zipper, but didn’t bothering pushing her pants down over her
hips. He simply slipped his hands inside and drew her to him, keeping
a firm hold on her ass.
Groaning,
she broke away from his kiss and tipped her head back. His mouth
trailed kisses over her jaw, down her throat, as if he needed to
taste every inch of her.
More.
I need more.
She
wanted to keep the fog of grief locked outside his bedroom. She
didn’t want to think. She just wanted to feel. She needed him right
now because she couldn’t step into that place where the world felt
like it was falling apart, spiraling out of control. Not yet.
“It’s
not fair,” she murmured, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling.
His
lips hovered over her the swell of her breasts peaking out over the
top of her shirt. “Not much is.”
Oh
no, don’t go there.
“You’re
naked and I’m not,” she said, drawing him back to this place
where physical desire dominated.
He
let out a low laugh as his tongue glided over her skin, licking just
about the edge of her t-shirt. “Not fair at all.”
She
broke away from him and stripped off her clothes. Her movements were
rushed and she nearly fell over trying to get out of her pants. But
she wasn’t looking to seduce him. She wanted to take him, fighting
her way to a mutual pleasure that would block out everything else.
His
brow knitted together as he watched her. “Are you sure—”
“Shhh.”
She placed her index finger over her lips. “I need you, Noah. I’m
not calling, sending a letter, or a pigeon. I’m right here and I
need—”
His
lips captured hers, his hands on her hips, drawing her close and then
guiding her back. Her legs touched the bed and she lowered down,
sitting on the edge. She took him with her.
I
won’t let go.
Noah
dropped to one knee, his hands moving to her breasts. She leaned back
and he followed, moving over her.
Wrapping
her legs around his hips, she held him close. He didn’t pull away,
or try to second-guess her. He just slid inside.
“More,”
she whispered.
He
stared down at her, his cheeks still damp from his tears. But he
wasn’t crying now, he was looking at her as if she was everything
he needed. And he was pumping into her hard and fast. There was
nothing gentle or careful about his movements. It was as if he needed
to take as much as he could, as if he was depending on her . . .
I
can’t be strong enough for both of us.
She
closed her eyes and let her hands roam. He had to meet her halfway,
rescue her just a little . . .
His
hips slammed into her. His right elbow pressed into the bed beside
her shoulder and his upper body hovered over her. But his other hand
wandered, gliding over her torso, reaching between them. His thumb
brushed over the spot guaranteed to send her spiraling into pleasure.
But then he stopped.
She
opened her eyes and looked up at him. I
promise I won’t turn into a idiot, calling out professions of love.
“Ready?”
he demanded. “Because I can’t hold back.”
“Yes,”
she gasped.
He
thrust into her again, his thumb offering one more teasing touch as
plain old missionary pushed her over the edge. She took the sweet
relief, holding tight to the pleasure. She did not love this man. She
refused to hand over her heart.
But
she loved everything about this orgasm.
“Noah,
oh Noah.” She chanted his name as if it would prolong the escape.
But
one more thrust and he groaned, his face contorting as he came. His
lips curled back and he looked as if was growling, a pure animalistic
reaction to taking her, claiming her, and oh God—
“We
didn’t . . .,” she said, her hand pushing at her chest, trying to
get him off her. It was too late. She knew it was too late. “Oh,
God, Noah.”
“Hmm,”
he murmured, obeying her frantic scrambling to get him off her. He
withdrew from her body and collapsed on his back, his legs dangling
over the edge of the bed. They’d been in such a rush to feel
something other than pain, to push away the tears, that they fallen
sideways across the full-size bed. And they’d forgotten the most
important thing.
“We
didn’t use a condom,” she said.
He
rolled onto his side and propped his head against his hand, his elbow
pressing into the rumpled bedding. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he said
his voice hoarse. Concern shown in his blue eyes. “I wasn’t
thinking straight, sweetheart. I can promise you I’m clean. I
wasn’t a saint these past five years, but I didn’t screw around
like some of the other guys.”
She
shook her head, not wanting to picture him screwing anyone else. Not
right now while she was lying naked beside him, after he’d come
inside her.
“I
stopped taking the pill,” she said, her voice hollow. How could she
let this happen? “I figured I wasn’t great at remembering it
anyway seeing as I got pregnant. I meant to get an IUD. But I looked
up the cost . . .”
“It’s
going to be okay.” Noah drew her into his arms and she went,
resting her head against his chest. He felt so strong, the muscles in
his arms taut as they laid on the bed. “The changes are slim—”
“I
can’t loose another baby,” she whispered.
“You
won’t.” His hold tightened as if he could physical force the
possibility away. “You could always take a morning after pill
before you leave for Germany.”
“I
could.” But despite the bubbling fear, she couldn’t bring herself
to go to a doctor and ask to wipe away the possibility of a child.
She couldn’t loose another baby, not to a pill or an early
delivery.
Of
course, she wasn’t in a position to have child. But still, after
fighting so hard for her baby to live, she couldn’t erase another
before he even had a chance . . .
“But,”
she began.
“You
don’t have to take anything, Josie. Whatever happens, we’ll get
through it. And you don’t need to send a pigeon this time. I’m
not going anywhere. And I’ll be here when you get back from
Germany.”
She
nodded, the fear she’d pushed away for a few blissful—and
potentially disastrous—minutes, returned. Her brother might be
dying. She might never get to hear him laugh, or give her shit for
well, just about anything. And she might never get to see his
expression when she told him she’d gotten naked with his best
friend.
“It’s
going to be okay, Josie,” he said as if he could make
everything—Dominic, her potential pregnancy—A-Okay through sheer
willpower.
“Maybe.”
She
closed her eyes. You can
do this. You can face anything.
She
might be lying to herself. But she didn’t have a choice. She needed
to be strong because Noah couldn’t rush in a play the hero this
time. She’d found him reduced to tears, his emotions raw when she
entered his room. He was in this with her.
With
her head still resting against his chest, she wrapped her arm around
him and held tight.
I’ll
be your anchor if you’ll be mine because if we send out a pigeon, I
don’t think anyone will rush to our rescue.
After several years on the other side of the publishing industry, Sara Jane Stone bid goodbye to her sales career to pursue her dream-writing romance novels. Sara Jane currently resides in Brooklyn, New York with her very supportive real-life hero, two lively young children and a lazy Burmese cat. Join Sara Jane’s newsletter to receive new release information, news about contests, giveaways, and more! Visit
www.sarajanestone.com and look for her newsletter entry form.
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