by Norris, Kris
Dark spots edged his vision as he stayed poised above her. His arms beneath her with his fingers locked around her shoulders. He was probably squishing her into the bed, at least from the waist down because he couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything other than lay there breathing.
Air in, air out. Repeat. Until his vision finally cleared. Some of the blood returned to his brain. But the clarity only made him realize he’d done it, again. Jumped on top of her and pumped away until they’d both finished. Hadn’t he promised to make her fantasies a reality? To do whatever it took to ensure her pleasure above everything else?
Fuck. Why was he so bad at this? Where the hell had his control gone? He never lost control. Never deviated from a plan once he’d committed. Especially when it was a damn good plan. One guaranteed to keep her coming back for more. And it had been so freaking simple.
Find out what she wanted. If she had any secret desires. Handcuffs. Blindfolds. Maybe a light spanking or him talking with an accent—he wasn’t sure he could, but fuck, he’d try. Anything for Jericho. But, so far, he hadn’t even let her ride him.
She was right. She did make him into a loose cannon, and not in a good way. Which meant he’d have to beg for forgiveness. Again. Not exactly the kind of record he wanted to keep going. Him, screwing up their love making. Over and over.
Cannon took a deep breath—cursed when he realized he was probably squishing her more—then pushed up higher on his elbows. He braced himself for any kind of reaction from her, only to freeze when he noticed the tears dotted along her cheeks.
Actual fucking tears.
It was dark. Nothing but some moonlight filtering in the window on the far side of the room. Through the skylight overhead. But there was no hiding the moisture on her face. The way her eyes were squeezed shut. Nothing to drown out her shuddering breaths she sucked in as if simply breathing hurt.
Cannon opened his mouth, tried to talk. To say her name. Ask her if she was okay, but nothing came out. Not a word, a sound. All he could do was look down at her, at those tears on her cheeks. At her obvious discomfort. At what he’d done, and silently curse.
She made the first sound. A raspy exhalation that ripped at his heart. Made his damn chest hurt. Right in the center. Jericho opened her eyes, saw him and cringed.
Shit, buggering, fuck.
He didn’t know what to do. Had absolutely no experience to draw on. Sure, he’d had a few women get weepy on him from drinking. From being physically hurt on a mission. But this… Emotional pain? Pain he’d caused from making love?
Obviously, it hadn’t been making love for her. Not if she was crying. Should he sit up? Pull out? Leave?
He should definitely pull out. Fuck, what was wrong with him?
Jericho stopped him from moving, her tiny fingers holding him captive as she tugged against his shoulders. He could break her grip easily. Just a push against the mattress, and he’d be up and away. Like Superman. High above her, making his escape. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t break whatever power she had over him. Instead, he lowered until most of their bodies were touching. Until he was really crushing her into the bed, again.
She smiled. Fuck, it was breathtaking. All pretty pink lips and white teeth that shined in the pale moonlight. Her lips were wet, but he didn’t know if she’d licked them or if it was from the tears. If she’d cried that much while he’d been seeing stars. Lost in his own pleasure.
Her fingers slid off his shoulders to rest on his biceps, a frown shaping her pretty lips. She tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong? You’re…shaking?”
He never shook. Not under fire. When he was outnumber. Outgunned. Out of options. But there was no denying the tremors in his arms. The slow slide of fear down his spine. He could try to pass it off as his muscles being fatigued, but lying wouldn’t change the fact that they both knew it was her. Only she affected him like this. Reduced him to the man beneath the fatigues.
Cannon clenched his jaw. “What’s wrong? You’re crying, that’s what’s wrong. Christ, Jericho. Whatever I did, I…”
What could he possibly say to make it right? That he was sorry? That he wouldn’t be an insensitive prick, again? Because he didn’t even know what he’d done. Couldn’t remember anything after she’d rasped his name, other than the feel of her skin beneath his. The warmth of her body surrounding him.
Jericho’s gaze softened, and she smiled, again. As if everything was okay. As if he hadn’t just fucked up their second night.
He shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re smiling. There’s nothing I can say to make this right.”
“Are you always going to jump to the worst possible conclusion? And is that an Army thing, a Delta thing, or just a guy thing?”
“Not funny. You’re crying. There are tears on your cheeks. It doesn’t take a genius to know that’s not a good thing.”
“Oh, baby, they really should teach you guys more about how to understand women. I’m crying because you made me see more than just stars. Because I’ve never felt this…this…complete. Like I’m part of something bigger than just myself. A part of you. I’m not sad. I’m happy.”
“You’re…happy?”
“Exceedingly so. The tears mean you did everything right. More than right. That…”
Christ. The first time he’d messed up, she’d told him he was incredible. Now, she said he’d made her happy. Complete. He really should have paid more attention to his mother. Asked her the important things like how to understand women, because nothing made sense, other than the fact he wasn’t in the doghouse. Hadn’t scared her away. In fact, now that his initial fear had eased, he sensed that they’d grown even closer.
Jericho cupped his jaw, waited until he was looking her in the eyes, completely focused on her. “There’s something I need to tell you, but… I want to wait until after we sleep. When we’re not riding this sexual high. So, you know I’m sincere. Okay?”
Hell no. He would not let her be the first one to say the words, I love you. He knew that’s what she wanted to tell him. It was there in the dreamy look in her eyes. In the way her fingers flexed against his muscles. After everything she’d given him, he needed to be first. To take that risk.
Cannon eased off to one side, still maintaining eye contact. But the fear he thought would surface, didn’t. Instead, he felt light. Confident. Free.
He touched her cheek, wiping at the moisture still clinging to her creamy skin. “So, telling you that I’m crazy about you. That I can’t picture my life without you in it. That I’m so damn in love with you, I can’t focus on anything else but making you smile. Admitting that when we’re still entwined like this means it’s not sincere? Is that a Deputy Marshal thing, a woman thing, or just a Jericho thing? Because it means everything to me, sweetheart. Regardless of where we are, what we’re doing. And it’s not going to change come morning, other than getting even stronger. You… You undo me.”
Damn it. More tears. Streaming down the sides of her face. Had he misread everything? Again?
That small hand on his jaw squeezed tight. “It means everything to me, too. I just didn’t want you to think it was just the sex talking. That I’d regret telling you I love you in the morning. I won’t, but…” She gave him a watery laugh. “I love you.”
Relief. Swift and sure through his chest. Loosening the tight feeling there. Making everything—perfect. “Hell yeah, you do.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “Hold all those thoughts.”
Cannon slipped off the bed, quickly darting to the bathroom. He cleaned up then brought a warm wet cloth in for her. She watched him as he wiped away their combined releases, her gaze following him over to the small ensuite then back.
He tsked as he climbed beneath the blankets, taking her in his arms then tossing the covers over both of them. “I know that look, but…sleep, first. Let your ribs rest a bit. I promise I’ll be pounding into you, again, in the morning.”
Jericho laughed, easing her head onto his shoulder, her leg ac
ross his. “Not so fast, soldier. Next time, I’m on top.”
“Challenge accepted. As long as you realize we’ll be finishing with you plastered against the headboard as I claim you from behind.”
“Always a counteroffer with you. Fine, I accept. Just, don’t let go, tonight, okay?”
He cinched his arms around her. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Sleep. We’ll talk about moving your stuff here, in the morning.”
She stiffened, pushing up onto one elbow. “Moving all my stuff here?”
“Unless you hate this place. We could—”
She silenced him with a dainty finger across his mouth. “Again, with the worst case. This place is perfect. And I really don’t have that much I need, so… We can start fresh. Together.”
Damn straight, they would. And he’d make sure this thing with Ty Brown was over. That they hadn’t missed anything. That she was as safe as she could be. That she stayed that way because this was only the beginning.
He dropped another kiss on her mouth. “Together.”
Chapter Twenty
The truth is, Jericho, you were always a better marshal. A better friend. I knew you’d eventually find out…
That voice. Jericho knew that voice playing inside her head.
If the damn Marshal Service doesn’t think I’m dead, we’re all fucked. And, since I’m not your only source, you might want to consider that before you decide to make any changes in our agreement… What? No, there won’t be any issues. We’re off the route, and she’s out cold. No, I can’t kill her outright… I know what I’m doing. I have a car waiting. We’ll meet in thirty minutes… Don’t be late.
“No!” She bolted upright, fighting against the covers, her chest heaving. The icy slide of panic clawing at her throat, leaving goosebumps across her skin. Sun streamed in through a window on the far wall—from a skylight overhead—casting long shadows across the wooden floor. By the looks of it, she’d slept late. Well past noon.
The lingering echoes of the dream sounded in her mind, quickly fading into nothing more than ghosted words that didn’t make sense. It had been important—the dream. She felt it. As if she’d been on the verge of remembering everything. Why the whole situation still felt wrong. Why she couldn’t move forward. Why she was still chasing the truth when everyone else had already filed it away.
Trust your gut. That’s what Cannon had told her. And she owed it to herself—to Dave—to keep searching until the doubts faded like the dream had.
Which meant she needed to get back to work. No more hiding. If Cannon was still worried, the man could shadow her ass. Though, she had a feeling he’d be doing that regardless. That he’d find a way to be available and present during any future risky endeavors. Not that she really blamed him, seeing as he’d had to back her up—save her butt—more than once.
She mulled the thought around as she finally took in the room, but nothing looked familiar. Just a huge bed. A dresser. A photo on one of the walls. Had they gone to a hotel last night? She threw back the covers and stood on shaky legs before remembering where she was—the loft. Cannon’s place.
Soon to be their place.
It all came rushing back, now. The takedown at the bar. Locking Ty Brown’s ass up at her office. Cannon carrying her into his room. Making love.
Then, he’d said he loved her. And she’d answered in kind.
Jericho fell back onto the bed. She’d actually told Cannon she loved him. Out loud. Not that she regretted it. She didn’t. But it made everything so…real. And he wanted her to move in with him. Live in his loft. Their loft. The idea shouldn’t make her so damn excited. While she didn’t dislike her apartment, it had never been home. More of a place to hang her jacket. Kick off her boots. She hadn’t even taken the time to decorate it. Not really. Other than a photo of her dad in uniform alongside of one of her and her parents taken just before he’d died, she didn’t have anything on the walls. Any kind of personal items scattered around the place. Anything remotely important to her was stored away in a couple of boxes. Ones she’d planned on unpacking but never had.
She’d been waiting. She realized that, now. That there was some hidden part inside her that had been hoping to find Cannon. That she’d been searching all this time without even knowing what she was looking for until he’d smiled at her in that bar—dared her to see life from a new perspective.
Theirs.
And, now that she’d removed the blinders she’d been wearing—the ones that only saw her as a Deputy Marshal. Fighting alone—she knew she couldn’t go back to that life. To being nothing more than a gun and a shiny star on her hip. She needed…
Cannon.
Hopefully, the fact she’d woken alone wasn’t an indication he regretted what he’d said. That he’d been wrong, and it was just the afterglow of sex that had spurred him to confess his love. Asked her to move in with him. That the sunlight hadn’t burned those feelings and thoughts away.
Of course, he was probably just making some coffee. She smelled the faint scent of it from beyond the door. Motivation to get her back on her feet and into the shower. It wasn’t a huge ensuite, but tidy and clean, with a decent-sized glass shower at one end. Large enough she could fit in with Cannon—barely. But, the guy was larger than most people, so... They’d have to find a way to make it work. Because she definitely wanted more showers with him. Have him hold her under the spray. Rub soap across her skin. Deflect the water when she went to her knees to give him the best damn blowjob of his life. Let him see his release painted across her chest.
Oh, yeah. She could easily picture them sharing this space. It already looked as if they had similar tastes. Or, maybe, just the same lack of decorating skills. Either way, she was up for the challenge. And she really didn’t have much she needed from her place. Some clothes, her computer. Those two boxes, and the couple of photos on her wall. Done.
Jericho made a mental list as she had a quick shower, fought to get a comb through her hair, then dressed. That coffee scent grew heavier as she opened the door to a short hallway. She took a few steps, stopping at the door she remembered seeing the previous night. It was another bathroom, but there was also another bedroom next to it.
Hadn’t Cannon said something about Colt staying in his spare room? Had the other man been in there when they’d stumbled in? Had he heard them making love? She hadn’t been exactly quiet. Hadn’t thought there was anyone else in the loft. And hadn’t the headboard clunked against the wall at some point?
God, she hoped Cannon had more spare rooms downstairs. It was bad enough Colt had already gotten a glimpse of her naked in Cannon’s arms. Adding this to the list just tipped her embarrassment over the edge. How was she supposed to look the other man in the eyes and not blush? And, seeing as he was Cannon’s only co-worker at the moment, they were destined to spend a lot of time together.
She cringed inwardly as she made for the room in front of her. It opened up into a large communal area. Part kitchen, living room and dining room, with tall ceilings and beautiful brick work along a couple of the outer walls. Everything was done in gray tones with industrial piping running across the wooden beams. The only splash of color was a blue throw rug and matching pillows.
Very masculine but appealing. Soothing, almost, which seemed a bit odd considering Cannon’s past. His present career. When his personality default was set to extreme overdrive. But, maybe the place helped him unwind. She already felt a thousand times more relaxed than she had in a long time.
Though, the mind-blowing sex probably had more to do with that than the furnishings and paint scheme, but she’d give it all the benefit of the doubt. And, like his room, the place was neat. Very little to clutter the area, other than the essentials. All oversized, she noticed. Probably in order to accommodate his size. No sense investing in a couch you’d fall off of if you fell asleep.
Jericho took in her surroundings as she padded over to the coffee maker. Damn pot was empty, though it had recently been brewed. Which meant she�
�d have to wait several minutes for the infusion of caffeine she desperately needed.
“Here.”
She screamed as a bag of coffee beans appeared over her right shoulder, spinning deftly to her right as she grabbed a pan out of the sink and brandished it in front of her. A tall man with dark hair and matching dark eyes stood off to her left, amusement tilting his full lips into a killer smile. He looked around the same age as Cannon, maybe a couple of years younger, with just a few faint lines around his eyes and mouth. He was large, muscular, but not nearly as massive as Cannon. Though, she guessed he was just as deadly.
The guy was obviously ex-military. She recognized the look, now. Ice, Midnight, Rigs—they’d all had the same haunted shadows in their eyes. Men who had faced the impossible and had somehow managed to come out the other side intact. Scarred, but intact.
Damn, hadn’t Cannon mentioned something about another buddy of his showing up today? What the hell had he said his name was?
The guy raised his other hand, keeping them both shoulder height. “Easy. I surrender. No need to get violent.”
She groaned, placing the pan back in the sink. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on folks like that. What if I’d grabbed my gun?” Which she shouldn’t have left sitting on the bedside table, but she hadn’t thought she’d need it in the loft. Had wanted to save time disposing of it in case Cannon was up for a quickie.
The guy shrugged. “I would have taken counter measures if necessary.”
“Are all you Spec Op guys so damn cocky? And calm? Seriously... I’m not exactly your typical civilian.”
“Nope. You’re Deputy U.S. Marshal Jericho Nash. You joined the Marshal Service eight years ago after an exemplary five years of service on the Seattle police force. You have an extremely impressive success record and have brought in an unusually high number of felons considering you aren’t part of the dedicated unit that hunts them down. You seem to have a knack for being in the right place at the right time.”