Between The Lines

“You’re here because you want me.”

A sizzling tale of one wicked woman from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Hawkeye.

As “Jojo Kink,” writer Jo Marchande lives an exciting, sexy life filled with wicked adventures that she shares with her readers. The unsexy truth, however, is that Jo can’t remember the last time she experienced anything remotely naughty. Well, except for those hot, needy nights with Theo all those years ago...

Then—out of sight and flushed with aching heat—Jo witnesses an illicit encounter featuring none other than Theo Laurence. The same boy she once loved, only now a gorgeous, hard-bodied man filled with raw sensuality. But Jo isn’t quite as hidden as she thinks...

Now Theo is offering Jo the two things she wants most—a big break for her writing career and a chance to experience all the sexy, kinky things she’s merely written about. With every searing touch, Jo is beginning to realize exactly why only one man has ever been able to unlock her desire. Why only Theo can make her burn with need...

And that letting Theo in might give Jo the naughty experience she craves...at a cost she never imagined.

Sexy. Passionate. Bold. Discover Harlequin DARE, a new line of fun, edgy and sexually explicit romances for the fearless female.

New York Times bestselling author LAUREN HAWKEYE never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living…though she’s the only one who’s surprised. She lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada, with her husband, two young sons, a pitbull and two idiot cats. In her non-existent spare time Lauren partakes in far too many hobbies! She loves to hear from her readers through e-mail, Facebook and Instagram! Sign up for Lauren’s newsletter here: eepurl.com/OeF7r.

Between the Lines

Lauren Hawkeye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08704-9

BETWEEN THE LINES

© 2019 Lauren Hawkeye

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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To Patience, for her patience

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Then

HE ALWAYS GOT what he wanted...except when it came to this woman.

Theo Lawrence groaned with something akin to pain as she arched her hips into him, her soft, heated flesh rubbing against his aching cock. He fisted his hands in the front of her thin, ribbed tank top, yanking the fabric up to expose her small breasts, the nipples rosy red from his fingers.

“Don’t stop.” Pressing her lips into the corded muscle of his neck, Jo Marchande dug her fingers into his shoulders until it hurt, sparking deeper need to life inside him. All the while, her hips rocked restlessly, teasing the rock-solid erection that was straining at the stiff denim of his jeans. “Please don’t stop.”

“You’re killing me.” He didn’t want to stop—oh fuck, how he didn’t want to stop. He’d never loved anyone in his life the way he loved her, and not being able to be inside her was exquisite agony.

The one decent thing he’d done in his life, however, was to keep his hands off his underage girlfriend. He loved her—loved her family—far too much than to disrespect them by taking her before she could possibly be ready.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Especially when she was dead set on making him change his mind.

“You don’t have to hold back.” Hand sliding down between them, she rubbed her palm over his arousal. His erection jerked in response, angry at being confined to its denim prison. “You know you don’t. I want this. Want you.”

“Not while you’re still seventeen.” His words were strained. He tugged her shirt higher still, and she took the opportunity to rub her breasts against his chest, heating his skin to a feverish pitch. “It’s not right.”

“You’re only two years older than me.” Her voice was stubborn. This was nothing new—his girl was nothing if not determined. Single-minded. He admired it in every aspect of her life.

Except for this one.

“And two years won’t be a big deal when you’re eighteen,” Theo growled against the top of her head. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo, straight spicy mint, something he’d never be able to smell again in his life without being aroused. “Tomorrow. We can wait one more day.”

In Massachusetts, the age of consent was sixteen. It damn near killed him to do it, but he was making them wait until eighteen. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

“No.” That stubborn streak in her voice thickened, and she dipped a finger inside his waistband. She swiped over the swollen head of his cock, and he groaned when a droplet of liquid leaked out in response.

“Jo.” Drawing on every last ounce of strength that he had, he forced himself to take a deep breath, pulling back and putting a single precious inch of strength between them. It wasn’t much, but it allowed him to inhale without the smell of her skin sinking into the very cells of his being. “It’s not happening. You know me well enough to know that I don’t change my mind.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He looked down into her face, the one he’d known since they were kids. Mischief was sparkling in her storm-gray eyes, bubbling up through the thick haze of lust.

“You’re going to have to use smaller words.” Dipping his head, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then trailed his lips down over her cheekbone. “All of my blood has flooded south of my brain. Far south.”

She laughed breathlessly, and he felt the exhalation, warm as it teased over his chest. “I’m not asking you to change your mind. But I am asking you to...to fuck me.”

His mouth went instantly dry, his cock surging forward, cheering at her words. Her dirty words, her innocent tone belying them, were rapidly bringing him to the absolute edge of no return.

“I’m not sure you know what it does to me, hearing that sweet little mouth of yours talking about such filthy things.” Releasing her tank top with one hand, he dragged it up, up until he could rub his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. In response, she swiped her tongue over it, then sucked it into her mouth, showing what she wanted to do to another part of him.

What they both wanted her to do.

“I’m going to do more than talk about it,” she insisted. Slowly, slowly, she started to work at his belt, the sound of metal on metal one of the most erotic things he’d ever heard. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

“Jojo,” he exhaled, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips. She parted them beneath him, and he licked inside. “No more teasing. What are you talking about?”

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” She grinned up at him triumphantly. Blood suffused her pale, creamy skin, camouflaging the golden freckles that he knew were there. “It’s after midnight, Theo. And I know exactly what I want for my birthday.”

Holy shit. Releasing her long enough to look at his watch, he watched as the numbers turned over from 12:02 to 12:03.

She was right. She was eighteen now. And with that knowledge, his noble intentions melted like sugar in a hot pan, becoming something even better.

He growled in response. He’d made it. And now there was nothing holding him back from sinking between those pale, pretty thighs that had taunted him for so incredibly long.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he demanded. She cried out when he palmed her ass, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Again, the heat of her sweet core taunted his cock, but it was different now.

Now it just spurred him on because finally, finally, he could touch her the way they’d both wanted him to for the last year—the longest year of his life.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” she gasped as he carried her to the foot of the bed. Sliding her down his body, he set her down on her feet, then again fisted his hands in the front of her thin cotton tank top.

“I can.” He grinned wickedly as he tugged. Jo exhaled harshly as her shirt ripped down the front. For a split second he felt bad—he’d ruined her shirt, and her family didn’t have a lot of money.

But when she looked up at him, there was no judgment in her eyes, just raw need.

He’d buy her a new shirt—he’d buy her anything she wanted, if she’d let him. Heaven knew he could afford it. Right now, though, the last thing he wanted was for her to start thinking about the differences between their lives—the one point of contention between them.

Right now he didn’t want her thinking of anything. He just wanted her to feel.

“Hold still.” He whispered the words into her ear, savored the resultant shiver. She was nervous, and he didn’t mind that.

By the time they were done, she’d be too lost in sensation to worry about anything.

He palmed her breasts, running his thumbs roughly over her distended nipples. She rarely wore a bra. She claimed that her breasts were too small to need the support. He didn’t care what size they were, because to him they were just perfect.

And the lack of bra gave him easier access to heaven. Who would complain about that?

Her breath hitched when his fingers worked at the button of her low-slung jeans. The denim was worn, the fastening giving way easily. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he worked the garment down her slim hips until it fell to the floor. She was left in nothing but a pair of flimsy blue cotton briefs, hardly a barrier to the sweet heat between her legs.

“Lie down on the bed.” She did as he told her, scooting back until her head was cushioned on the pillows of his bed. Her slim, pale figure stood out in stark contrast to the deep sapphire-blue of his linen duvet, and he knew that he’d never look at his bed the same way again.

He watched as she propped herself up on her elbows, her avid stare fixed on him. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted unconsciously as he undid the buttons on his expensive dress shirt, leaving it hanging open as he pulled his leather belt from his jeans. He was so hard that it was nearly painful, and yet he savored the bite of discomfort before popping the button and allowing the heavy length of his cock to breathe, his swollen length clearly outlined against his underwear.

“Oh.” On the bed, Jo’s entire body flushed. She ran her tongue over her lips, and he barely suppressed a groan as he imagined those lips swallowing him deep.

“You’ve felt me before.” He’d stuck to his rule, no sex until she was eighteen, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t touched. But this was the first time she’d seen him naked, and he felt a strange surge of pride at her hungry gaze.

He wasn’t a virgin, but nothing turned him on like knowing that she’d chosen him to introduce her to this kind of pleasure. It was a heavy responsibility, but he knew he was up to the task.

“I know,” she whispered, her words rasping against the still air of his room. “But I’ve never really thought about...you know...how it’s going to fit.”

Theo closed his eyes, his head falling back. What had he done in his life to deserve her?

He hadn’t done anything, but he wasn’t that noble.

“It’ll fit,” he promised, shoving his jeans down his hips. He stepped out when they fell to the floor, then rubbed a hand over his erection, which tented the front of his black briefs.

Jo groaned, shifting restlessly on the bed. The sight of her arousal dampening the tender skin of her inner thighs was nearly his undoing.

Quickly, he shed his shirt, then let his briefs fall to the floor. He stood before her naked, and though he wanted to pounce on her and bury his face between her thighs, he forced himself to hold still, letting her look her fill.

He knew what she saw when those inquisitive gray eyes looked him over. He was tall, a good half a foot taller than her five foot six. He was also more than a little vain, and he started every day in the gym on the third floor of the house he shared with his father. He may not have had the drive for school or business that his dad had hoped to see in his offspring, but he never missed a session with his weights.

Because of that, his body was chiseled and solid as a rock, and he’d shared that body with more than a few girls before he’d finally convinced Jo to date him. He knew that girls liked his abs, his cock, and even the fact that his skin was dark gold and his hair nearly black, his coloring thanks to the Brazilian mother who had died when he was a baby.

Yeah, he knew he was a good-looking guy. And that plus his family money meant that he’d never been hard up for someone to warm his bed.

But he’d never, ever wanted anything more than what he had right now—Jo Marchande in his bed, wanting him.

He had to make this good.

“Spread your legs.” He clasped her ankles in long fingers, rubbing his thumb over the tender skin at the inside of each. She shuddered, then gasped when he tugged, pulling her to the edge of the bed. Kneeling on the plush carpet that covered his bedroom floor, he hooked her legs over each of his shoulders, opening her wide. Exposing that part of her that he craved.

“Theo... I’ve never...” Jo squirmed, her heels digging into his back. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything except take what I give you.” Beneath his avid stare, the thin cotton of those panties grew wet. He traced it with a finger, circling the hard bud of her clit, and she shuddered in response.

He pressed his lips to the supple skin on the inside of her thigh, just above the curve of her knee. Her quick exhale told him that she was trying desperately to hold her breath. That she was nervous.

Knowing that the nerves would only help to heighten her pleasure, he slid his lips up only the barest inch, determined to draw out the sensations for her. She shifted, and he could feel her heat, smell her arousal.

Trailing his lips farther up her thigh, he teased them both by trailing his tongue over the crease that divided her leg from her abdomen. She jerked beneath his mouth with a breathless laugh.

“Liked that, did you?” He repeated the motion, and she groaned. He slid his mouth up even more, closer to his goal, savoring the salt on her skin.

“Theo,” she breathed as he brushed his lips over the soaked fabric of her panties. “Oh God. I can’t—”

“Oh yes, you can.” He flicked his tongue over the cotton, and her hips lifted off the bed.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” Nuzzling his nose against her heat, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her simple underwear. Not wanting to take the time to pull them all the way off, he pulled hard and grinned when they ripped, allowing him to toss them aside.

She didn’t give him hell for destroying a second item of her clothing, just rocked from side to side on the cool sheets of his bed. He took a moment to simply look at the glistening pink of her center, hot and wet and all for him.

Jo groaned. This was the only time she got quiet, his girl—when she was aroused. It made him want to drive her so crazy that she got loud again.

It made him want to make her scream his name.

Inhaling her scent, which reminded him of some kind of exotic cinnamon, he leaned forward and swiped his tongue through her folds.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, arching up off the bed. He licked again, and she tried to close her legs against the onslaught of sensation, but he was there, the width of his shoulders holding her wide-open.

With long, slow swipes of his tongue, he licked her from bottom to top, brushing the flat of his tongue over the hard nub of her clit every time. She tasted so sweet, and he wanted more.

Using his thumbs, he parted her lips, focusing his attention on the swollen bud. Her heels began to drum into his back, her breath coming in gasps.

“Theo. I can’t. It’s too much.” He could tell that her arousal was spiking hard and high. She didn’t have much experience—hell, any experience—and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to send her over.

That was good. He was going to make her come now, and then again. He was going to make sure that she was so ready for him that when it came to the part that might hurt, she would simply melt around him like ice cream left in the hot, hot sun.

CHAPTER TWO

“THAT’S IT, BABY GIRL.” Using one finger, he traced around her slick opening, barely dipping inside. She groaned, arching her back, pressing herself against his mouth greedily. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

“Theo!” She bucked against his mouth as he increased the flicks of his tongue against her clit. Her thighs started to shake, and then her entire body tightened as her pleasure overtook her.

He buried his face between her legs as she came, kissing her now with broad swipes of his tongue. Her words were unintelligible, and when he looked up the slim column of her body, he saw her face flushed the prettiest shade of pink, her eyes closed, her mouth parted for the breathy little pants she didn’t seem able to help.

Before the waves stopped battering at her, he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, then gently moved her legs from where they were clenched around his ears. She lay panting on the bed as he crawled up beside her, placing one hand on the dip of her impossibly slender waist.

He watched as she opened her eyes, fascinated by the glints of auburn in the mink-colored lengths of her lashes. Beneath them, those stormy gray eyes were glittering with need, and he knew, he just knew, that his dirty girl already wanted more.

“Did you like that?” He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear, nipping at the lobe. She nodded frantically but remained silent.

Squeezing her hip, he splayed his palm over the flat, quivering plane of her belly.

“What was that?” Chuckling as she garbled something in response, he slid his hand down, dipping between her legs. “I didn’t understand. I guess I’ll just have to check for myself.”

Her hands fisted in the quilt as he used his fingers to do what his tongue just had. Pinching her clit lightly, quickly, he waited until she moaned, then slid a finger into her waiting heat.

She was wet, and tight, and if she felt like fucking heaven on his finger, then what would she feel like around his cock?

“More,” Jo whispered, and he realized that she’d gone still. She was waiting, he realized, for it to hurt.

He didn’t want it to hurt.

“Are you sure?” She nodded, so he worked his finger out slowly, then in and then out.

She hissed when he added a second, scissoring them the slightest bit to stretch her. He kept his gaze on her face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he saw raw, unadulterated need.

He would make this good for her.

Returning his attention to her clit, he caught it between his fingers and rubbed. Wetness slicked her folds, and within moments another keening cry slipped from between those pretty lips. He let her ride the wave of her second orgasm before reaching over her to his mahogany bedside table, removing a small foil packet from the drawer.

Her eyes widened a bit when she saw what he’d retrieved, and he watched the slim column of her throat as she swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure about this?” It just might kill him to stop right now, with her taste on his lips and her slickness on his fingers, but he would. He’d do pretty much anything for her.

“Don’t you dare stop!” Rising up on her elbows, Jo caught his chin in her fingers and pulled him down for a kiss. She sucked in a surprised breath, and he knew that she was tasting herself on his lips.

The greedy noise that slipped from her mouth was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever heard.

With hands that were far less steady than any other time he’d done this, he tore open the foil packet. Her curious eyes watched avidly as he removed the ring of latex, smoothing the sheath down over the length of his erection.

He hissed when she reached down and danced her fingers over his cock. God, he’d dreamed of this, of her hand on him, stroking him just like this.

Pleasure began to gather all the way down in the soles of his feet, and he jerked back with a rueful laugh.

“Did I do something wrong?” She sat up, eyebrows raised in alarm.

“Not at all.” Catching her hand in his—the one that had just been stroking him—he pressed his lips to it in a kiss. “It was a little too good, actually.”

“Oh.” She drew out the word, understanding dawning. “Duly noted.”

She smirked. What choice did he have but to kiss her?

They fell back down to the bed, the covers tangling around them. Rolling on top of her, he braced his weight on his arms on either side of her head, looking down into that face that he knew like he knew his own.

Jo Marchande wasn’t classically pretty. Her face was a bit too square, her features too angular. Her milky-white skin stayed pale year-round, except for the times she got so absorbed in a book she was reading out in the sun that she didn’t realize she was burning. The smattering of golden freckles stayed year-round, too, and he took a moment now to brush a kiss over them on each cheek.

It was her eyes that made people look at her twice. They were huge, a stunning gray that shifted with her mood, surrounded by lashes that she never bothered to tint with mascara. She never bothered with makeup at all, something he loved because it was so different from all of the other women he knew.

Her hair spread out around her head on the pillow as she returned his gaze steadily, the chestnut color adding warmth to that pale skin. No, she wasn’t classically beautiful, but he wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

She was his.

“I love you.” The words slipped from his lips before he could even think about what he was saying. Her mouth parted in surprise, but then he was burying his face in that long mane of hair, tucking his hand between her legs. She rocked up against him as he tested one more time that she was ready.

His fingers came away soaked.

“Theo, I—” The words got caught in her throat as he reached between them and lined the head of his cock up with the sweet, sweet heat of her center.

She gasped as he slid just the head of his erection into her slickness. He sank his teeth into his lower lip as nerves fired to life. It was everything he could do to hold still, letting her adjust to the feeling of him inside her.

He wasn’t expecting her to grab onto his hips and rock herself up.

“Fuck,” he cursed as he slid deeper into her soaking-wet channel. He wanted so badly to be in deep, to claim her from the inside out, but when the head of his cock met resistance, he had to force himself to still.

His limbs shaking with the exertion of holding back, he pressed his damp forehead against hers, looking right into her eyes. Their breath mingled, fanning out over their faces, and he kissed her again, their first kiss with him inside her.

“Are you ready?” He rocked back and forth the slightest bit, testing. She whimpered, but it was a sound of pleasure, not of pain.

“Hurry up.” Her voice was greedy, her fingers eager as they dug into his ass. She pulled him closer, and he resisted for just one more minute before he pressed forward, the cock that was swollen past the point of pain pushing deeper.

Beneath him she winced, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. He automatically stilled, but she urged him on with an impatient hiss.

Her body resisted him, clenching tightly until finally something gave way, allowing him to slide home. He grunted as he sheathed himself fully inside her, the sensation causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Holy shit,” Jo whispered beneath him, looking up at him with eyes that were bright.

“It will only hurt for a minute. I promise.” Theo rocked inside her, just a bit to test, and she moaned.

“It hurts, but not the kind you mean.” Her hands moved from his ass to his hips, and she shifted impatiently beneath him. “It hurts because I don’t even know what this is, but I want it so bad. Please, Theo. Please. Move.”

The last strings of his self-control snapped. With small rocking motions, he pulled back, then worked his way back in. He’d never had anything so tight, so hot around his cock, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose it before he could make her feel good again.

She wouldn’t let him be careful. She rocked beneath him, urging him to go faster and faster. Her tight sheath was swollen, pulling him back in again and again. The pleasure rose hot and fast, and sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained to hold back.

Slipping one hand between their bodies, he located her clit and focused his attention on it. At the same time, he dipped his head and sucked one of her puckered nipples into his mouth.

Beneath him she went taut as a bow. Her cleft tightened as her eyes went wild with pleasure yet again, and he felt his own release start, fire licking along every inch of his skin. Closing his eyes, he finally allowed himself to let go, to let himself revel in the fact that Jo Marchande, the strong, proud girl that he’d loved since the day they met, had given herself to him.

After, he pressed a kiss to her brow. Pulling out, he disposed of the condom, then slid back into the bed, tucking them both under his soft, expensive sheets. She was already drowsy when he tugged her against him, fitting his chest to her back.

“You okay?” He tucked a ribbon of hair behind her ear. She sighed, a small murmur of contentment that made his stomach do a small flip.

How was it possible that she was his? He’d never done anything to deserve having someone so wonderful in his life.

According to his father, he was lazy. He had no drive, no direction, no purpose in life. He was squandering the opportunities that he had. This, of course, was in direct contrast to Theodore Lawrence Sr., who owned a huge import-export company. His mother, famous in her native Brazil before her death, had been a world-renowned concert pianist.

He’d never live up to either of them, so he didn’t bother to try. He knew what he was worth, and it wasn’t much. So the fact that Jo Marchande, the woman who had imprinted herself into his very DNA, had deemed him worthy?

It wasn’t something that he would ever take for granted.