Wild Child (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE- Jenna

I can’t wait for Rusty to see what I’m wearing.  I dressed specifically with torturing him in mind. 

Cami and I made all kinds of salads and desserts this morning to bring to her house for the cookout slash bridal shower.  It’s an unconventional event, but she wanted Trick to participate in everything
with
her. Therefore, the bridal shower now includes the groom, and tomorrow night’s bachelorette party will include the bachelors.  Crazy as hell if you ask me.  But she didn’t.  She wants Trick around for all of it, and who am I to try to talk her out of it?  Besides, she
did
let me plan the bachelorette party.  That alone was worth a thousand other compromises.

There are already a dozen cars parked along the side of the road leading to Cami’s house, but someone put a saw horse on the side of the driveway where she usually parks.  My guess is it was Trick, saving a spot for his fiancée.  I won’t deny that it makes me a little green, what they have.  I want it for myself. With Rusty.  If he ever gets to that point.

And that’s a big if.

I get out and move the saw horse so Cami can pull in.  We waste no time in loading up our arms and taking all the foil-wrapped dishes straight down into the back yard. 

I look around as we walk, but Rusty is nowhere to be found.  He and Trick must be doing some manly stuff inside.  Whatever that may be.  If I had to guess, I’d say it involves them pounding beer somewhere in the house.

Cami and I are setting dishes on one long, cloth-covered table when I see the patio door open and Trick emerge.  I know Rusty won’t be far behind.  And he’s not.  He comes out next, holding a beer just like Trick. They’re both laughing at something.   I turn to face him and wait for his eyes to find me.

When they do, I feel the warmth of the bright blue orbs and I smile when he stops dead in his tracks.  Even from this distance, I can tell exactly where they are on my body.  He starts at my feet, taking in my strappy, sexy platforms.  Then he works his way slowly up my legs, making them tingle.  I can tell the instant he gets to the ragged hem of my cut-off blue jean shorts. I can almost
feel
his fingers tracing the edge of them, teasing the elastic of my panties underneath.  I squeeze my thighs together to stop the ache that started the instant I saw him.  No sense in getting all worked up when I can’t do anything about it.

His eyes finally continue to rise, traveling over the slice of exposed skin on my stomach to the edge of my t-shirt and then stopping on my boobs.  I see his chest rise and fall with his deep breath and my nipples pucker into points. Rusty’s mouth drops open a little bit and I wonder if he can see them through my shirt.  I’m sure he knows they’re begging for his mouth. 

When his gaze meets mine, I know I’m right.  His eyes are shooting blue flames at me.  And my body reacts accordingly. 

Very slowly, he walks toward me.  I can’t help but get excited as I watch him. His loose gait is like that of a lion, stalking his prey.  And I’d love to be Rusty’s prey.  For him to stalk me until he catches me, to grab me with his hands and hold me down so he can devour me.

Shit a monkey, woman!  You’ve got to stop thinking like this!

Rusty’s body is almost as familiar to me as my own.  As I take in his dark chestnut hair, sticking up at all different angles, his wide shoulders, encased in snug navy cotton, and the ripped jeans that hug his thighs so perfectly, I consider throwing Cami’s plan right into the toilet and asking Rusty to take me upstairs and let me give him a few more tears in his clothes. 

But when I meet his eyes, I don’t.  I see lust there, but I also see something else. Something I know is worth waiting for.  At least until I can’t stand to wait any longer.  That alone is why I just smile when he stops in front of me.

“Damn you, woman,” he breathes, inhaling so deeply I feel his chest brush mine.

I give him my most innocent expression and blink wide eyes at him.  “What?”

“You wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

I trail my fingers from my collarbone, down between my breasts to my stomach. “What, this old outfit?”

“Yeah, ‘this old outfit’,” Rusty says, glancing left and right then taking another small step closer to me. I can feel his thighs against mine.  And I can feel the growing bulge between them.  “This shirt that makes my palms itch to feel your nipples,” he says, tugging at the hem of my shirt, the back of his hand tickling my stomach.  “And these shorts that are so short I could slide my fingers right up under them,” he says, reaching one hand down between us to barely stroke my inner thigh.  “And feel those damp panties of yours.”

I’m breathless.  Already.  And I know from experience that it will only get worse.  Rusty does to me what no one else in the world can.

“What makes you think they’re damp?”

“Because I know you, baby. I know you put them on with thoughts of me taking them off.  I know, even now, you’re wishing that I’d take you upstairs and pull them slowly down your legs so that I could…do things to you.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I whisper.  “But we both know that won’t happen so it doesn’t matter.”

“This is going to make you just as miserable as it will me.”

“Maybe.”

Rusty grins.  “Oh, no. It will.  I’ll see to it.”

I lift one brow.  “Is that right?  Well then bring it!  Touché, pussycat.”

“Touché, indeed.”

With a wink that turns my insides to mush, Rusty reaches around and slaps my butt before he moves past me, his shoulder brushing my aching nipples.  I close my eyes for a second, wondering if this might actually hurt me
worse
than it does him.

********

I flop down in one of the deep cushions of the patio chair.  “Phew! I’m glad that’s over.”

I hear Cami’s sigh.  She’s sitting on the outdoor sofa with her legs curled under her, leaning into Trick’s side.  “Me, too.  That was exhausting!”

“But at least it wasn’t embarrassing. I was just sure Rusty’s present would be a sex swing and you’d have to explain it to your mom.”

“Rusty what?” Rusty asks as he appears at the door, stepping out onto the patio.

“I was just telling them I figured you’d get them something like a sex swing.”

He grins and comes to sit in the chair beside mine.  “That’s why I wanted to shop for it without you.  I wanted to show you I could be
un
guy-like sometimes.” 

“So you’re saying the wine fridge-keg cooler combo unit was your
only
consideration?”

“I didn’t say
that.”

“Ah-ha!  I knew it!”

“Look, I’m a guy.  Of course I thought first of a sex swing.  But I figured some prudish old blue-haired woman might have a heart attack when it was unwrapped.  Or that Cami’s dad might whip my ass.”

“I’d gladly let Jack whip your ass for a present like that.”

“Of course you would, dickhead!  But even
I
don’t love you that much.”

“Well, I think you did a great job, baby,” I croon to him.

“Great enough to get some kind of reward?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows at me.

I pause for a few seconds. “Sure. What did you have in mind?” I know exactly what he has in mind, but I want to hear it.  Even if we can’t do it, I still like hearing what goes on in his head.

“How ‘bout a lil skinny-dippin’?”

I perk up instantly.  Not only does that sound cool and refreshing, but it sounds like fun. Hot, playful fun.

“You’re on,” I say, coming to my feet.  “You two coming?” I ask Cami.

She looks at Trick and grins.  “Yeah, I think we will.”

“We will?” he asks.

“If you want to see me in anything less than what I’m wearing right now, then yes, we will.”

“I’m in,” Trick replies enthusiastically.  We all laugh.

The four of us strike out across the yard, bathed in warm breezes and pale moonlight.  It already looks like the perfect night for a naughty tryst, which will make it that much harder
not
to…indulge.  But I think Cami’s right. I think maybe this will be a good way to make Rusty see what he’s missing out on.  Maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t want to be without me.  It’s worth a try anyway.  Rusty’s worth a lot of tries.

We drop into single file formation as we trek through the woods. I’ve heard Cami talk about the pond on their property and how much she and Trick
love
to visit it, but I’ve never been.  When the trees part to reveal an oval clearing dominated by a sparkling fresh-water pond and absolute silence, I can see why it’s a favorite of theirs.  It would be a favorite of mine, too.

Trick and Cami drift off to one side. I can barely make out their whispers and Cami’s giggles from where I’m standing.  It’s just enough privacy for everyone without there being…trouble.

When I feel a palm brush my butt and Rusty appears at my side, I quit thinking of anyone except him.

“Need some help with these?” Rusty asks, trailing his hand over my hip as he walks around in front of me.

“I think I just might.  This zipper can be awfully hateful,” I say with mock seriousness. 

“Mmm, I figured as much,” he says, stepping in close to me again.  I can feel warmth radiating from his body as though there’s nothing between us at all—no clothes, no air, no emotional separation.  Just… heat. “But we’d better start with your shirt. I don’t want to get tangled up in it as I’m working on that faulty zipper.”  His eyes appear black in the low light, his dilated pupils overwhelming the azure of his irises.

“I’ll trust your judgment,” I reply, my heart already racing.

“Lift your arms,” he commands quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Obediently, I lift my arms over my head and I wait.  Rusty watches me for several seconds before he presses his palms to my waist and slides them slowly upward, caressing my rib cage, thumbs teasing my nipples as he drags up the material of my shirt.  I close my eyes for a heartbeat as he runs his palms up my arms, bringing my tee with them.  When Rusty gently removes the shirt from my head, I open my eyes again, falling head long into the desire I see in his. 

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“Now for this pesky thing,” he muses as he slides a finger under the strap of my bra.  “I’m sure it could get in the way.”

“I’m sure,” I agree, trying hard to remember my objective so that I don’t get lost in the moment.

Rusty reaches around me and pops open the hook of my bra with one flick of his fingers.  He runs his hands up over my shoulders and down my arms, removing my bra straps as he goes.

I see his eyes flicker down.  My nipples tighten when I hear him suck in a breath through his clenched teeth.  I know he wants to touch them. He loves my body. He’s told me a thousand times as he worships every inch of it.  But this time, he’ll have to love it from a distance. Even if it’s a short distance.

“My shorts,” I prompt, knowing I’m dangerously close to giving in to my need of him.

Rusty’s gaze comes back to mine.  He doesn’t move. Or speak. He just watches me. I know he’s fighting touching me.  And I let him.

Finally, he drops to one knee and reaches for my waistband.  Carefully, he unbuttons my shorts and then slowly unzips them.  He doesn’t touch me in any way except when he leans forward just enough to press his lips to the top edge of my panties. 

Heat pours into my core and my body throbs for him to kiss me lower.  Then lower still.  But he doesn’t.  With his face so close I can feel his breath, Rusty pulls my shorts down my legs then follows them with my panties.

When I’m standing before him, wearing nothing but my shoes and a passion for him that never seems to die, he looks up at me.  For a few seconds, I think it’s over. The game is over.  He’s going to kiss me and I’m going to let him.  But he doesn’t.  Instead, Rusty stands slowly to his feet and says, “Your turn.”

I kick off my shoes, take a deep breath and curl my fingers in the hem of Rusty’s shirt.  I pull it up, letting my hands touch his hard, smooth skin as I go. I can feel every ripple of his abdomen, every hard bulge of his pecs, but I don’t give in to my urge to press my lips to them.

I stretch up on my tiptoes to tug his shirt over his head.  He’s taller than me, so I have to sway slightly toward him to reach high enough.  My breasts graze his chest and I gasp. I can’t help it.  The sensation of his skin touching my nipples flashes through me like a bolt of lightning, hot and electric.

“Jen-na,” he warns gruffly.

“Sorry,” I pant.  I throw his shirt to the side and drop to my knees in front of him.  I reach for the button of his jeans.  I pause with my fingers tucked just inside his waistband and I look up at him.  His face is set in stone and his jaw is clenched. I know this is hard for him.  And when I let my eyes travel down, I can see the enormous bulge that assures me just
how
hard it is for him.  Impulsively, I lean forward and press my lips to it.  I hear him moan and his fingers wind into my hair, holding me to him for a few seconds before he tugs my head away.

“You’d better hurry it up or this is all over with,” he says hoarsely.