Craving Jess Read online

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  Red Sage Publishing

  www.eredsage.com

  Copyright ©2009 by Catherine Berlin

  First published in 2009, 2009

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Craving Jess

  To My Reader:

  Craving Jess: Chapter 1

  Craving Jess: Chapter 2

  Craving Jess: Chapter 3

  Craving Jess: Chapter 4

  Craving Jess: Chapter 5

  Craving Jess: Chapter 6

  Craving Jess: Chapter 7

  About the author:

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  An eRedSage Publishing Publication

  This book is a work of complete fiction. Any names, places, incidents, characters are products of the author's imagination and creativity or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is fully coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever is forbidden.

  Information:

  Red Sage Publishing, Inc. * P.O. Box 4844 * Seminole, FL 33775

  727-391-3847 * eRedSage.com

  Craving Jess

  An eRed Sage Publication * All Rights Reserved * Copyright © 2009

  eRedSage is a registered trademark of Red Sage Publishing, Inc.

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  ISBN: 978-1-60310-294-0 * 1-60310-294-9 * Craving Jess * Adobe PDF

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  Published by arrangement with the authors and copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  Craving Jess © 2009 By Catherine Berlin

  Cover © 2009 by Rae Monet, Inc.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  Book typesetting by: Quill & Mouse Studios, Inc. * quillandmouse.com

  Craving Jess

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  by Catherine Berlin

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  To My Reader:

  There's something I like about finding out the perfect friend can also be the perfect lover. I hope you enjoy Damon and Jess—I had a blast writing their story!

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Craving Jess: Chapter 1

  Her light had turned off at seven. Eight came and went while Damon made a sandwich that tasted like cardboard and did a distracted job on some paperwork.

  At nine he caught himself checking her light again. Still off.

  Ten. How late was she going to be out with that prick? He tapped the window frame impatiently, frowning. He was acting like a stalker instead of a supportive friend. But in this matter, he wasn't willing to support her. He'd thought he could handle watching his neighbor head out on a date. Obviously he should have discouraged her.

  Damon forced himself to sit on his couch, his back to the window that faced Jess's house. No good. He could still see the time. On the DVD player, the wall clock, the cable box. Why the hell did he have so many clocks?

  With a curse, he abandoned the couch and started to pace.

  He'd wanted Jess from the moment he met her, but for some stupid reason he'd let himself become her friend. He had to listen to her go on about that dork she worked with, the one she'd had a crush on for months. Frankly, he hadn't heard one good thing about the guy. He sounded like an asshole.

  Damon was hanging back, not pushing too hard, biding his time, sure that when she figured out the guy was an ass, her eyes would open and she'd see that he, Damon, was the right guy. But he'd missed his chance. He blew it. The guy had asked Jess out, and Damon was too late to do anything about it.

  Jess was with another guy.

  Eleven o'clock.

  He yanked on his hair with both hands. Maybe they'd gone back to His Place. He shook the thought away. No. Please, not that. If he got another chance, he'd make his move. This was stupid. He was stupid. He wanted Jess. He had to tell her.

  A light clicked on in the house behind his. Jess! She was home. And by the slap of her screen door, she was on her way over.

  Be cool, Damon.

  He reached the sofa, assumed a casual pose, and flipped on the television just as Jess stomped up his deck stairs. She stormed through the unlocked door and past him into the bathroom where she gargled and spit twice into the marble sink.

  Damon secretly smiled his relief, but put on a look of concern for her.

  "It was awful!” Jess snatched a hand towel, wet one corner, and scrubbed her mouth. “He slobbered."

  Damon chuckled as he reached her side. Drool he could understand, but slobber? “I take it Mr. Wonderful disappointed you?"

  Jess snorted and exited the tiny bathroom.

  He tilted his head and watched the sway of her hips. Damn, she had a fine backside. He joined her in the living room. She perched cross-legged on his coffee table and raked her hands through her long auburn hair. “How could this happen?"

  Damon sat, leaned forward, and dropped a hand on her thigh. His palm itched to wander higher. “How bad could the date have gone?"

  "How bad? How bad?” She stood and kicked off her shoes.

  His hand slid from her jeans, apparently unnoticed. He sighed. Females threw themselves at him on a daily basis. But not Jess. He might have been a Saint Bernard for all the attention she paid him physically. He was her friend.

  Jess rubbed her eyes, making her eyeliner go smoky beneath her lashes.

  He suppressed the stab of desire that struck him. She returned to his side and sat facing him on the sofa, her knees bent beneath her.

  She blew a puff of air, chewed her bottom lip, and then smacked her teeth with her tongue. “Okay, first Jackson was rude to our waiter. He treated the guy like total crap.” She shook her head. “And he didn't leave a tip. I had to pretend to forget my purse so I could go back and put something on the table. I was so embarrassed.” She touched the back of Damon's hand with her cold fingertips. “And that was the highlight of the evening."

  Damon fought back his smile again. There was still hope. Even though Jess had been chasing the illustrious Jackson Charles for months and the dolt had finally noticed her, he'd blown it.

  "And he had the choice of good seats for twenty bucks, or nosebleed seats for five.” She rolled her eyes. “Guess which ones Mr. Six-Figure-Salary chose?"

  "How's your nose?"

  Jess's brows knitted a moment before she laughed and snuggled closer to Damon. He draped an arm around her shoulders, closed his eyes, and breathed in her scent.

  When he opened his eyes, she was peering up at him with an odd look. A sad look. His chest tightened.

  "Despite how the evening went, he still kissed me at my front door.” She grimaced. “It should've been perfect, but his mouth was all over mine. And I guess I didn't kiss him back like he wanted. He said I kissed him like a cold fish."

  Damon set his jaw. Jerk. Who tells a woman something like that?

  "At least I don't have to wonder if he'll be calling.” She studied her clasped hands.

  Damon moved back, taking her shoulders in his hands. “You'd actually want to go out with him again?” Maybe Jess wasn't quite as together as he'd thought.
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  She pushed playfully against his chest with her fingers. “No, ya loon, but it would be nice to turn him down and tick off all the reasons why. The way he ended the date makes me feel like I got dumped. Hell, I did get dumped. By a jerk!"

  Damon held his breath. She was staring at his throat. He wondered if his pulse beat strong enough there that she could see it. He let his hands fall to his sides and clenched his fists. This wasn't fair. She could set him on fire with a glance and yet she remained unaffected. What if he made his move and she didn't want him? Or worse, laughed it off? Could he risk her rejection?

  "I have to ask a favor."

  He didn't speak. Couldn't.

  "The last three guys I've gone out with have told me, one way or another, the same thing Jackson did.” She cleared her throat. Her face pinkened. “That I'm cold."

  If Damon hadn't wanted her so bad right then, he might have laughed. “The last three guys” Jess had been out with were spread over two years of bad first dates. He liked to think they went poorly because the guys were wrong for Jess. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but she'd already leaned away.

  She pushed up from the sofa, walked a few paces, and turned. She squinted at him. “Would you be willing to—I mean, since we're not, you know, emotionally attached to each other. Oh hell, can you help me figure out what the problem is?"

  Not emotionally attached? Hell. In answer, Damon crossed the room, took her belt loops in his fingers, and pulled her against his body. He was half hard already just thinking about what she wanted. “Honey, you just tell me where and when.” He dipped his head, pleased when her startled eyes fluttered closed as his mouth came down on hers.

  Her hands had landed against his chest when he'd pulled her off-balance, but now they crept upward and her fingers gripped his shoulders.

  His blood pounded in his ears. He lifted his head. One kiss and her lips were swollen and dark. One kiss and he wanted to carry her upstairs to his bed and show her just how hot she could be.

  A blush warmed her cheekbones and she kept her eyes downcast. A prickle of nervous energy made him shift his feet. Had he gone too far?

  Her pink tongue darted out, wetting her full lips. Her mouth drew his eyes, but he hesitated. How far could their friendship be pushed?

  Jess inhaled sharply. She inched up on her toes and kissed him back, a fast kiss, and checked his face nervously before letting her lashes drift down again.

  With a groan, Damon plunged his hands into her hair and kissed her again. Hard. A tiny groan, almost inaudible in the back of her throat, spurred him on.

  Her nails stroked the back of his neck and exerted a gentle pressure. What he wouldn't give to have those nails raking his back as he pounded into her. He caught himself. Slow. Easy. Jess was not someone to be rushed. She meant too much to him.

  Tentatively he ran his tongue along her lips. She opened her mouth to him and leaned closer.

  His right hand slid down, his fingers brushing the side of her breast. He felt her stiffen, but she didn't back away. If anything, she kissed him with more fervor, breaking the long kiss into smaller ones, barely catching her breath in between.

  Holding the curve of her back with one arm, Damon allowed his free hand to tug her shirt from her jeans. The skin along her ribs warmed under his touch. She shivered and her nipples hardened through the fabric. They would taste like heaven.

  Jess pulled back, keeping her wrists locked at the nape of his neck. She tugged at her swollen bottom lip with her teeth. Her gray eyes seemed focused on his left ear. But she didn't stop his hand from edging higher on her bare waist.

  Damon sighed heavily and dropped his hands to his side. Was she bracing herself? Why? She wasn't ready for this. Hell, he wasn't ready. He wanted to give everything to her, when all she wanted was to experiment.

  "What?” Jess blinked up at him, the lost look in her eyes fading as he removed her hands from his neck. Regrettably.

  "We can't do this, Jess."

  "What do you mean?” She drew in a quick breath. “Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “You agree with Jackson."

  "God, no!” How could she think he thought she was cold? His cock was straining the material of his pants as it was. Much more of this torture and he'd need to excuse himself to change. He exhaled and collected his thoughts. “If we keep going, if we do this, one of us is going to get hurt."

  She cut him off. “No, there's no danger of that. I know we're just friends. This won't be any different than when you mow my lawn for me, or when I painted your guestroom. It's just sex, Damon. A favor between friends."

  He closed his mouth and walked toward the kitchen. So not fair. Friends didn't kiss the way she kissed. A friend wouldn't leave him tormented at night with thoughts of making love to her. He didn't want to be just her friend. Hadn't been just her friend for months. And for just a moment, when she'd pressed close, clawed at him, he'd thought she'd felt something—

  Yeah, somebody was going to get hurt. And it would be him.

  Her bare feet padded behind him on the linoleum. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water, holding it against his throat as he waited for her to speak.

  "Look, a week out of your life to make mine better. That's not so much to ask, is it? One week. We can make out or have sex as often as you want, if you want to at all. If you can bring yourself to.” Jess put her hand over her eyes and he knew she was on one of her rolls where she just couldn't shut her mouth. Kept right on talking herself into trouble. He loved that about her.

  "And after next weekend, we can go back to the way it's always been.” She swayed a little and stepped toward the back door. “Look, I've gotta be up early tomorrow. Just think about it, okay? One week and then we need never speak of it again. Like it never happened."

  She touched his shoulder. She smelled like wine. Had she been drinking with Jackson? Jess never drank. The sweet fruity smell drew him, and he almost stiffened his muscles. He made himself stay relaxed. He couldn't show her how she affected him. He couldn't lose her friendship.

  "Damon?"

  "Yeah, I'll think about it.” All night long.

  He kept the fridge door open until he heard his back door shut, followed by the closing of the gate that separated their yards. Stepping away from the cool air, he twisted the cap from the water bottle and drank the whole twelve ounces at once.

  Didn't help one damned bit. Should have poured it down his shorts.

  He switched off the downstairs lights and watched Jess's house until she did the same and her bedroom light popped on. He climbed the carpeted stairs slowly, realized he still held the empty bottle, and tossed it into his trashcan from the landing halfway up the steps.

  He considered taking a cold shower, but he knew he'd fall asleep wanting her. He'd rather have her touch lingering on his skin.

  He donned a pair of flannel pajama pants and fell into bed. As he expected, his eyes stayed wide open. She offered herself to him, free and clear. And he was hesitating? He was an idiot! This was his chance. However crazy an idea, it could work.

  Could he do it? Could he sleep with Jess and remain unaffected? If he told her no, would she ask someone else?

  He frowned and sat up. The hell she would. He'd reached her with that kiss. Or he'd started to. A week of showing her she wasn't cold. A week of no-holds-barred sex with the woman of his dreams. Did he dare? What if this was the one chance he had to show her they should be more than friends?

  He swung off the bed, strode to his office, and flipped the switch on the computer monitor. He opened his email program and banged out a quick message to Jess.

  I've thought it over. My answer is yes. I'll see you tomorrow night.

  * * * *

  Jess shook her head. What had she been thinking?

  She watched Damon approach through her back yard, bearing four cartons of Chinese food. Their usual Saturday movie night was going to be marred by tension and awkwardness. And it was all her fault.

  Okay, not her fau
lt. She never should have let Jackson talk her into drinking those two glasses of wine. As a rule, she didn't drink, a lesson learned in college when she'd had eighteen glasses of pink vodka a fraternity boy mixed in a garbage can. She and her pounding head had lived to regret it for two days.

  Blame the wine. Blame idiots like Jackson Charles. Blame her libido for leaping at the chance to kiss her hunky best friend.

  She would just have to tell him she was sorry, she'd made a mistake, and could he please forget what she'd asked him. She'd practically begged the man to have sex with her. Not cool. He was such a nice guy, he'd probably felt sorry for her when he emailed his acceptance.

  Damon let himself in and deposited the cartons on her kitchen counter. She'd already set out plates and silverware, and without uttering a word in greeting, she doled out portions of the food.

  "What're we watching tonight?” He smiled down at her, elbows bent, hands resting on his hips.

  Jess let her eyes flit across his broad chest. The black tank he wore only served to make his muscles appear larger. Easy to keep a rock-hard body like his since he owned a gym.

  Rock hard. She cursed under her breath. She'd have to keep her mind on the movie and not on the way he'd kissed her last night. She shifted her thighs. It wasn't gonna be easy.

  "Cop movie.” She took her plate into the living room and sat on the floor, placing her dinner on the coffee table. Damon sat on the couch next to her. Jess glanced sideways. Good. Knees. Nothing sexual about knees.

  Yes. After the movie she would just explain that it had all been a huge embarrassing mistake and he needn't feel obligated to help her out.

  Maybe Damon wouldn't even bring up the subject. After all, she was hardly his type. The only women she'd seen him with were nearly as tall as he was. And he stood six-two barefoot. Tall, thin, model-type she wasn't. Far from it. She was extremely average. Not thin, not overweight, not short, but not tall. Just average. The girl you'd see in the dictionary under “girl next door” or “typical American.” Nothing remarkable about her. In fact, it would be a shame to mix any part of her with Damon's sculpted body. A travesty.