The Renegade
Chapter 6

After four outfit changes, three attempts at putting on fake eyelashes—all of them a fail—and one breakneck trip to the mall to splurge on new bras and panties, Jo had to admit she might be just a teensy bit out of her depth with this whole dating thing. Not that she thought Sawyer would necessarily want to see her bra or panties tonight. But this was their fourth date this week, not counting the night she’d stayed at the Crooked Angel until closing time. Her cheeks heated at the memory of Sawyer’s k****s, hot and hard and bordering on wild. The feel of his hands on her body. The desperate way she’d wanted nothing more than to beg him to make her come until she forgot her own name. They’d dialed things back a little since then, having spent the last few nights on various dates, each of which had been just as much fun as the night he’d taken her skating and each of which had ended in slow, seductive k****s at her doorstep. He’d put that ball firmly in her court—she’d had a feeling if she’d asked for more, he’d have been all too happy to comply. But he’d seemed equally okay with just doing what they’d been doing, and hell if that didn’t make her want to fling her panties at him even more.

Tonight, Jo had offered to cook him dinner, which she’d meant as a genuine date—after all, Sawyer was all about risk, and her cooking skills fell square into the “this could be delicious or a disaster” category. But the more she’d thought about it, the more she’d realized the implications of having him over at her place, just the two of them, with her bedroom right there, and God, she was such a dolt.

The only thing more nerve wracking than Sawyer thinking she’d invited him over specifically so they could have s*x was the knowledge that Jo really, really wanted to have s*x with him. Fast, hard, dirty s*x, the kind she’d seen in countless movies. The kind she was sure Sawyer was great at, if her preview from the other night was any indicator. The kind she’d never really had in her life, where she lost herself so thoroughly in the moment that the pleasure made her scream and the o*****s arrived effortlessly and more than once—no, twice.

Yeah, Jo might not make it through her salad without spontaneously combusting.

Thankfully, her phone rang, saving her from her thoughts. “Hey,” she said, putting her sister on speakerphone as she moved through the kitchen to assemble her dinner ingredients.

“Hey! How’s the audition prep going?” Frankie asked.

Knowing it would be futile to sugarcoat things like she had with her agent earlier today, Jo said, “Eh.”

“Okay, I may need more to go on than that,” Frankie said, and the truth tumbled out of Jo before she could stop it.

“The part is great. Like, game-changing, career-changing, life-changing, exactly what I’ve been looking for, perfect.”

Frankie let a second drop off the clock before asking the obvious. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Jo’s laugh was short and lacked humor. “For normal people, sure. For me, it’s just…” She paused for a shaky breath. “This is my last shot at something big, you know? And I really want the part. I’m just not sure I can land it.”

“Of course you can land it,” Frankie said, the same way she’d say that the sun set in the west, or the sky was blue, or any other universal truth. “You’re an incredible actress, Jo. Auditioning for a big role is a risk, sure, but I know you. You’re talented and fierce. I don’t care what anyone says about Priscilla Contreras. You’re the original Amanda from Way Back When, the one they wanted first. They chose you. Josephine F*****g Rossi. You’ve got what it takes to nail this audition and make the producers beg you to play the part.”

“Part of me knows that,” Jo admitted. She’d landed a lead role on a major prime time show, for Chrissake. No one did that unless they had chops. “I’m just not so great at the big risk part. I keep thinking of all the ways that’s burned me before and all the ways it could go wrong. I mean, I can’t even date a ridiculously hot guy without unintentionally propositioning him. How am I supposed to beat out hundreds of other actresses for this part?”

A shocked silence skipped over the line, and damn it, damn it, damn it! Why did her mouth have to have so much independence all the time?

Finally, Frankie said, “You propositioned Sawyer.”

“No. Maybe. I’m not quite sure?” Jo amended, and but her sister pounced.

“Explain. And don’t even think of scrimping on the details.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re like a barracuda, only not as charming?” Jo grumbled.

“As a matter of fact, yes. And nice try, but I’m waiting.”

Knowing she had no other choice, Jo told Frankie how she’d asked Sawyer over for a cozy dinner for two. “I didn’t realize it would sound like a booty call. But it totally does, right? Like, I pretty much said, ‘I want you to come over and take my clothes off with your teeth?’, didn’t I?”

Frankie laughed, but not meanly. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but he said yes, didn’t he?”

Jo stopped with her hands halfway to the cupboard in front of her. “Oh.” Oh. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”

“Look, I’m going to tell you something I think you already know. Sawyer’s a good guy.”

“I do know that,” Jo said. Yes, the k****s they’d shared had been nothing short of incendiary, and that night at the bar had been…God, she didn’t even think there were words for that. But he’d never pushed her for anything more.

“He’s also a twenty-six-year-old, super-duper hetero guy,” Frankie pointed out. “I saw how he looked at you the night he met you, and from what you’ve told me about your dates this week, he’s more than a little into you.”

Heat crept into Jo’s cheeks, but she couldn’t deny what Frankie was saying. “Okay, maybe, but—”

“Sweet Jesus in the manger, Josephine. Could you please, just this once, throw caution to the wind and let yourself have a scorching-hot fling? Sawyer’s not some rando you met on Tinder. For the love of all things sacred, let the man bake your potato!”

For a second, Jo’s hard-earned defenses wanted to keep up her argument. But, as much as Jo would probably pay for saying so out loud, Frankie was right.

“For the record, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at baked potatoes the same way again,” Jo said, letting a microscopic smile slip over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Frankie said. “That one kind of flew out. I’m not trying to push you, Jo-Jo. I just hate to see you second-guessing yourself all the time.”

“It’s okay. You’re not really wrong.”

Well, that got her. “I’m sorry. What?” Frankie asked.

Jo took out a box of pasta, then bit the bullet. “I do second-guess myself, especially when it comes to anything risky or impulsive. I had that sort of relationship with Derek, and I got really burned.”

“Oh, honey,” Frankie said. “Sawyer and Derek are two totally different men.”

“I know,” Jo said slowly. “And I know this is a different situation. I’m only here for a couple more weeks, and we’ve only been on a handful of dates. But the truth is, I really do want to have s*x with Sawyer. It might be impulsive, and I may be a little graceless about it,” she added, because she was probably the only person on planet Earth who didn’t realize that inviting him to dinner might make him think she meant to seduce him, “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“So, you’re going to cook for him, huh?” Frankie asked with a smirk in her voice, and damn, her sister knew her far too well.

“If following the very detailed, step-by-step instructions that Angelina sent me for a pasta dish she literally called ‘idiot-proof’ counts as cooking, then yes. I am cooking for Sawyer.”

At the mention of their renowned chef cousin, Frankie’s voice grew relieved. “If it’s that one with the pancetta and sun-dried tomatoes and olives, I can personally vouch for the fact that it’s guaranteed to get a man into bed.”

Jo laughed. “Well, at least it’s been field tested.”

“Go,” Frankie said. “Have fun tonight. And use condoms! No throwing caution that far to the wind.”

Oh, for the love of… “I’m not stupid,” Jo said, rolling her eyes. Fine. So she’d picked up condoms today, too. A girl could never be too prepared. “Also, I’m never telling you anything again. Ever.”

“Good luck with that.” After one last laugh, Frankie disconnected the call, leaving Jo to baby-step through the video instructions her cousin had sent her to get this dinner together. She managed without botching things too horribly, and by the time things were well underway, she didn’t have time to worry about what might happen tonight, because Sawyer was buzzing up from downstairs.

“Hey,” he said a minute later as he arrived at the door to her apartment, Jo’s heart kicking out a steady stream of yes-yes-yes at the sight of him in a black leather jacket and pair of perfectly battered jeans.

“Oh, you smell good,” she blurted as he leaned in to k**s her cheek, his ensuing laugh rumbling past her ear.

“I ran home to shower after my day shift. But I don’t smell nearly as good as this apartment.” His eyes darted to the kitchen with curiosity. “Have you been holding out on me, Rossi? Because I can always use talent in my kitchen.”

Jo snorted, and so much for being seductive. “Hardly. But, luckily for you, I can follow step-by-step recipe instructions like a boss.”

They moved into the kitchen, which was the size of a postcard, and Sawyer held up a bottle of wine. “I took a flyer and figured merlot would work,” he said, gesturing to the glass-doored cabinet where a few wine glasses stood.

A prickle went through her that he’d remembered her order from last week, and she smiled. “Thanks.”

Sawyer shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a snug, long-sleeved gray T-shirt that worshipped his muscles. Placing the bottle on the counter, he pushed up his sleeves and grabbed the corkscrew Jo passed over, his forearms flexing and releasing in even pulls as he opened the wine, and the neglected spot between her legs ached with every move.

She bit her bottom l*p, hard. “So!” she chirped, and oh, God, was it possible to actually expire from horniness? “Dinner is pretty much ready, so…”

“Great.” Sawyer waited for her to dish up two portions of the pasta—which actually did smell pretty divine, if she did say so herself—then brought the two glasses of wine he’d poured to the small, two-person breakfast table tucked beneath the window. The nerves that had taken up residence in her belly eased as he took a bite of the pasta and his eyes drifted shut with a smile.

“You have been holding out on me,” he said. “This is delicious.”

Jo laughed, taking a bite, then another, before saying, “It really could’ve gone either way.”

“Well, I’m glad it went this way.” They ate for a few more minutes, then he asked, “So, how was today? Did you get a lot done with your audition prep?”

Annnd just like that, Jo’s appetite pulled a Houdini. “I’ve got most of the lines down,” she said, trailing her fork through the pasta on her plate.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Sawyer asked.

“Yes,” she meant to say, then drop the subject like a flaming-hot potato. But what came out was, “It would be, but I’m struggling with the script even though I’ve got it nearly memorized.”

Sawyer tilted his head. “Is there something specific tripping you up?”

“I’m not sure.” But rather than go the cautious route and slap a lid over her feelings, Jo found herself letting them pour right out.

“I dug into the lines really hard this week, getting a handle on the characters and how they’re meant to be portrayed.” She’d done the exact same thing for the Way Back When audition, studying not just her role, but those of the other leads as well, to better portray her own character’s feelings. “The role I’m auditioning for is really nuanced. Every time I read the script I uncover a different way the character might be portrayed. She’s just so complex. I don’t”—Jo paused, but, God, she was so tired of holding back—“I don’t know if I can do this.”

For a minute, Sawyer said nothing, the silence expanding into the space between them. Then he pinned her with a stare so intense, her heart began to pound.

“You’ve been taking risks with me all week, right?” he asked, and Jo had to nod. The ice skating trip hadn’t been their only adventure. They’d gone Go Kart racing, played laser tag, and—in a move that had probably pushed Sawyer’s comfort zone to its limits, too—taken one of those wine and paint classes. Jo had thought she’d be miserable so far out of her comfort zone.

She’d never raced a Go Kart in her life, and holy crap, she was terrible with a paint brush. But she’d ended up having too much fun to care that she might be bad at whatever it was they were doing.

“Yes,” Jo said.

One side of Sawyer’s mouth kicked up. “And none of those have ended in disaster, right?”

“No, but there’s a little more on the line with this audition.”

He considered this, finally nodding. “So, maybe it would help if you did something bigger than Go Kart racing, then.”

“You think I should take a bigger risk?” she asked, her voice dropping to a murmur.

Sawyer didn’t stop holding her gaze, but he didn’t move, either, as he said, “I think life is short. If you want something, even something that scares you a little, then maybe you should go all in and take it.”

Jo knew he meant the role. After all, he’d been encouraging her from the start, taking her just far enough out of her comfort zone to give her the confidence she needed. But right now, she wasn’t thinking about the role, or about anything other than the intensity in Sawyer’s dark-brown eyes.

Go all in and take it.

Without realizing she would, Jo pushed to her feet and stepped toward him. He stood, too, and her pulse quickened in her ears. But as bold as seducing Sawyer might be, it didn’t feel risky or scary or dangerous.

It just felt right.

“I’m sorry,” Jo whispered, pressing one hand over the flat plane of his chest.

His brows creased, just slightly. “For what?”

“For the fact that your dinner is going to get cold before you can finish it. But I don’t want to wait any more. I want you.”

Sawyer’s heart thumped faster beneath her hand, his stare shuttering as he dropped it to her mouth. “Show me, Jo. Take what you want.” His lips ghosted over hers, barely a touch, but God, she felt it everywhere. “All of it.”

She lifted her mouth to his in a rush. He met her halfway, his lips soft even as the k**s was anything but, and a m**n broke free from the back of Jo’s throat.

“Christ, that is hot,” Sawyer said against her mouth, as if he wasn’t quite willing to part from her entirely to speak. The words made her brave, and she arched against him to deepen the k**s. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she held him steady, exploring his mouth with greedy glides of her tongue. She experimented with softer, slower movements, tasting and teasing. Sawyer returned each one, until the want building in Jo’s belly made her break from him on a gasp.

“More. Please,” she said. Her voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to her, so throaty and needful. But Sawyer didn’t hesitate. Sliding one palm against the small of her back and the other over her a*s, he pulled her flush. Jo m****d at the unmistakable ridge of his c**k between her h**s, then m****d again when he thrust against her in a way that—oh, God—left nothing to her imagination.

“More what?” he asked, his voice gravel and sin and every other thing that made Jo want to come right there in her kitchen.

“More you.”

She grabbed his hand, fully intending to lead him through the tiny apartment to the tiny bedroom so they could give each other some decidedly not tiny o*****s, but he planted his boots to the floorboards and didn’t budge.

“Jo.” He pinned her with a stare so intense that she stopped where she was. “I need you to say it.”

“Say…what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Sawyer smiled. “All of it. What you want. What you don’t. If those things change at any point. I’m all for living in the moment”—he brushed a thumb over her bottom l*p—“but none of what happens tonight should be a risk for you.”

“It’s not,” Jo said, the words immediate. “I want you, Sawyer.” Summoning her courage, she continued, keeping her gaze steady on his even as her thoughts made her cheeks heat. “I want you to take me down the hall to my bedroom. Once we’re there, I want you to take off my clothes, then let me go as slow as I want while I return the favor.”

A sound came out of him, something caught between a m**n and a grunt, and the power of it shot right between Jo’s thighs, making her bolder. “I want you to touch me until I beg you not to stop, and then I want to f**k you until you beg me right back. So, please.” Her fingers tightened over his. “Take me to bed, Sawyer. Give me what I need.”

His k**s was more of a claiming, and Jo gave in to it without a second thought. They managed to move through the kitchen and down the hallway, pausing a few times to let their mouths linger together. Jo kicked the door to her room all the way open and led him to the spot beside her bed. Her room was heavily shadowed—probably a good thing, since she wasn’t exactly a neat freak—and she gave her eyes a minute to adjust to the dim strains of light filtering down the hallway from the main living space before turning to Sawyer. His mouth found hers, then the curve of her cheek, then the—ah—sensitive skin behind her ear.

“So pretty,” he murmured, her heart racing in reply. He slid both hands to the hem of her top, gripping the fabric and lifting it up in one swift motion. A curse grated out of him as he took in her red lace-and-satin bra, his fingers tracing the ribbonlike straps. But he didn’t let his touch get any bolder, and all at once, Jo realized that he was waiting.

I need you to say it.

“Take it off, Sawyer.” Jo shrugged one shoulder just enough to loosen the bra strap that had been resting there, then repeated the movement with her other shoulder. “I want you to touch me.”

He trailed a blunt fingertip over the swell of her breasts, one then the other. His callused touch sent a shiver through her, turning her nipples into hard points, and he cupped her with both hands. Returning his mouth to her neck, Sawyer strung a trail of open-mouthed k****s over her collarbone. His lips rested on the line where satin met skin for just a beat, and then, as if something broke free inside of him, he tugged both breasts free, pulling one nipple past his lips as he rolled the other firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, God,” Jo sighed, her spine bowing into the contact. Sawyer took the encouragement, his movements purposeful as he tried out different touches and speeds to discover what pleasured her most. Her clit throbbed with every lick and suck, her need snowballing into something that had no name when he cupped both breasts together to alternate his attention in faster flicks of his tongue.

“Sawyer.” It was all she could manage to get past the uncut want singing through her body, turning her panties wet and her mind into a haze.

Thankfully, he didn’t make her wait. With fast hands, he finished undressing her, then let her tug off his T-shirt and lower his jeans as he kicked out of his boots, and whoa. Whoa.

Sawyer had the body of a Greek sculpture, lean and defined and perfect, and he was looking at her as if she were a gift.

Jo’s need to be touched took a small detour at the sight of him standing there beside her bed in nothing but a pair of dark gray boxer briefs. His sculpted muscles were visible even in the soft light, and she ran her fingers over his shoulders, then his chest, taking him in. She mapped the hard plane of his abdomen with her hands, a thrill bursting through her at every hitch in his breath. Jo’s throat knotted when she got to the scattering of hair below his navel, and their m***s twined together when she slid her hand over the impressive length of his c**k.

“F**k, Jo,” he grated, his h**s moving in time with her hand as she stroked him over the thin fabric. He dropped a hand between them, his fingers sliding over her p***y with ease, and Jo was entirely helpless against the m**n that flew out of her.

Then, his touch was gone. Before Jo could protest, though, Sawyer’s arms were around her. He pulled her to the bed, breaking her fall with his body before situating them both more fully on the mattress, his head on one pillow.

“That’s better.” He thrust against her, his boxer briefs the only barrier between them. He was hard and hot and, wow, okay, bigger than she’d realized, and a twinge of worry snuck in past all of her want, making her freeze.

Sawyer’s hands stilled on her h**s. Ugh, of course he’d noticed. “What?”

“I still want this,” Jo assured him, because she really, really did. “It’s just been…a while.”

“A while,” he repeated.

Her face heated. Not in the good way. “A long while,” she admitted into the shadows. “And you’re, um…”

She gestured to the spot where his c**k was currently pressed tightly against her body, and thank God, he connected the dots. “Jo.” He propped himself on one forearm, levering closer so he could meet her eyes. “For the record, I don’t do this all the time, either. As for the rest”—he shifted her forward a few inches, his mouth hitching into an infernally sexy smile—“I’ve got you.”

Sawyer slid her farther up, so she was straddling his abdomen, and now Jo was the one connecting the dots. Her breath collapsed out of her in a pleasured “oh” as his destination became wildly clear, his hands guiding her h**s over his chest.

“Do you have any idea how hot those little noises you make are?” he asked, his fingers moving to the back of her thighs. Jo’s inner muscles clenched at the closeness of his mouth, the heat of his breath so near to where she desperately wanted him, and all she could do was shake her head.

Sawyer was completely undeterred. “Let’s replace out if you taste as sweet as you sound.”

He angled his shoulders beneath her, widening her thighs as he pulled her flush against his mouth, and oh, God, oh, GodohGodohGod. Pleasure shot through her, knotting her throat and turning her breath into gasps. He moved slowly, but with intention, exploring her p***y with his lips and tongue as his hands held her steady in front of him. Somewhere, in a dim passageway of her brain, Jo realized maybe she should feel vulnerable. After all, she was straddling Sawyer’s face, and—oh, oh, oh, that was so f*****g good—making all sorts of needy, greedy noises as he laid her bare with his mouth. But then he m****d in response, making Jo realize that he was just as turned on as she was, and she rocked against him, guiding his tongue right over her clit.

Sawyer’s fingers tightened, slipping around to cup her a*s and hold her close. Sparks burst under her skin, in the pit of her belly, all the way in her toes, but she didn’t stop. She gripped the headboard in front of her, steadying her pace so she could chase the o****m beckoning from the spot deep between her thighs, where she wanted…she wanted…

Jo went utterly still for just a beat, hanging in the space between need and sweet release. Then her o****m smashed into her, her p***y pulsating against Sawyer’s wicked, unrelenting tongue. He wrung every m**n and please and call to God out of her before easing his grip on her h**s, gently maneuvering her beside him on the mattress.

“Even sweeter,” Sawyer said. He proceeded to repeat the process with his fingers, slowly replaceing every spot that rebuilt her need. Somewhere along the way, she tugged his boxer briefs to the floor, stroking his c**k in return, until finally, she was certain she’d die if he wasn’t inside of her.

“Sawyer,” Jo whispered. She spared only a brief second to grab a condom from the nightstand drawer, then moved back to the center of the bed.

He took the condom from her, getting it safely into place, then settling himself between her parted knees. Anticipation trembled through her, doubling when he slid his rock-hard c**k over her waiting body. He lingered on her clit for just a beat, driving her need to a fever pitch before pressing slowly into her p***y.

“Oh, f**k, Jo.” He retreated, then nudged farther inside, seating himself more fully. The pressure made her gasp, but she was so slick with arousal, so full of need, that all she wanted was more.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t hold back.”

For just a second, the words hung between them, reverent.

Then Sawyer gave her exactly what she’d asked for. He began to f**k her in hard, even strokes, filling her over and over. Her body lit up, the pleasure of watching him take what he wanted giving her a bolt of wild satisfaction. She was making him m**n. The focus in his gaze as he watched his c**k disappear into her p***y, the sheer pleasure that replaced it when she cried out, all of it made Jo reckless with the need to make him come. Wrapping her legs around his h**s, she changed the angle of his thrusting, guiding him even deeper.

“You feel so f*****g good on my c**k,” he whispered. Although the words tempted Jo to feel a naughty thrill, the look on his face was almost vulnerable, making something break loose in her chest.

“Please, Sawyer,” she whispered back. “Take what you need.”

He didn’t hesitate. His motions grew more purposeful, then faster. Jo kept time with him the whole way, her own pleasure racing through her as his grew. His eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in harsh gasps as his movements grew less controlled. He filled her entirely with one last thrust, his body going bowstring tight for a long moment before beginning to loosen. Jo unwound her legs from his waist, but held Sawyer close as his breathing slowed. After a few minutes, he disentangled their limbs just long enough to deal with the condom, then returned to the bed.

Jo waited for the post-coital awkwardness to descend and trash the moment. But then, Sawyer pulled her in, tucking her head to his shoulder and kissing the top of her head as he simply held her, and instead, she just felt blissfully, weightlessly good in his arms.