“Deeper, Sam. Harder. Please.”
With a groan, he rolled her under him and they switched positions. She suspected he did so only to slow them down, but it did accomplish deeper. Oh yes, it did. And next it accomplished harder. Sam drove into her until they were both breathless, sweaty and delirious. Jill was on the edge, clawing her way to the top again, feeling a tsunami of sensations she couldn’t restrain. She came hard, his name on her lips. Her climax milked his and with one last deep thrust, Sam followed her over.
And broke the cot.
* * *
Sam broke the flimsy cot with a little too much enthusiasm. He didn’t feel good about that. Two legs, the bottom half as it turned out, no surprise, bent under their weight, laying them in a perpendicular position to the floor.
“I’ll bring you my bed.”
After his heart rate had toned down from cardiac event levels and he realized what he’d done, that seemed to be the only solution.
“You...will...not. That’s...for you,” Jill said from underneath him.
She was still breathless even though he’d taken his weight off and braced himself above her. Her face rosy pink from exertion, stray hairs plastered to her sensual mouth, she was gorgeous and sexy rolled into one combustible package. And he felt like he’d been hit in the head with a two-by-four.
“Seriously, a bed is a luxury. I’m used to sleeping on the ground. They give the other service branches all the bunks. Marines sleep on rocks.”
“I hope you’re exaggerating.” She blew out a breath and smiled.
Still under him, now squeezing his biceps. Yeah, he couldn’t seem to move. Not because he was too tired or worn-out, but because her shoulders were so soft and lickable. Her neck was creamy and smelled like flowers. And he couldn’t seem to move off her.
Instead, he bent down to kiss her neck and smell again. “Guess pretending to sleep on top of each other was maybe not such a good idea.”
Her legs, still wrapped around his back, shivered at his touch. Her stomach tightened. He could feel every inch of her respond to him and it was damned addictive.
“Don’t worry about the cot. It was cheap anyway, and remember, I don’t usually sleep here.”
He tugged her lower lip. “So I’ve done you a favor. No more late work nights and no more sleeping here.”
“Right.”
At least it would be comforting knowing she wasn’t in here working late. It might relieve some of the temptation to invite himself over again and break another piece of her furniture. God knew he was great at breaking things.
Families, friendships, promises.
“But what about tonight?”
“Maybe I’ll drive home.” She sighed and arched her back.
That was his cue. “I should go.”
He forced himself to move, clean them both up, put his clothes back on. His pants, anyway. Mission accomplished. Time to get the hell out of here.
“Do you have to go?”
He gave her a hand up and she rose from the cot with one end now level with the floor.
“I broke your bed. Do you really want to find out what else I might break?”
“Yes, actually.”
She was still quite naked. This disturbed him more than he could say. In no rush to dress, she threw her long-sleeved shirt on and nothing else. Unfortunately her shirt barely came to her hips.
“I’ll never look at one of these cots in the same way again. If that’s what it takes to break one, I’m all over it.”
“You want to break some more cots?” He couldn’t help but feel a smile tugging at his lips.
“If it’s always that much fun.” She met his gaze. “Want to stay?”
No. What he wanted to do was go. He was itchy and antsy again, his skin too tight around his bones. The trailer too small. But she stood literally bare-assed naked having no inhibitions about this fact whatsoever and that got to him. It was easy for her, he decided. Easy to show him who she was. Someone beautiful and strong and capable. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. It was possibly the most attractive quality about her.
“Is this your underhanded way of getting one more thing out of me? One a day. We agreed.”
She pulled on her panties, which wasn’t as helpful as it should have been. “Absolutely. Don’t tell me anything else. I forbid it.”
“Reverse psychology?” He quirked a brow. “Nice one.”
“Ha. As if I would try something so obvious.” She walked to the sink of the small kitchenette and bent under the cabinet, coming up with a bottle of scotch.
“You think if I drink enough I’ll spill my guts?”
“No, I think maybe if I drink enough I might be able to figure out what happened tonight.” She glanced at the broken cot.
“You need a recap?”
She poured into two shot glasses. Slammed hers down and didn’t even wince. Da-yum, this was his kind of girl. One more thing he didn’t know about her. Girl could swallow her scotch. He did the same with his shot and set it down on the countertop.
“Is this going to work? Tell me honestly and don’t hold back.”
She waved around the trailer, and by “this” he assumed she meant the park and not their, uh, relationship. They didn’t have one even if for a moment he’d allowed himself to consider it. He allowed himself to want more. She was so beautiful, smart and so loving. But how could he take care of anyone else when he could barely take care of himself?
“I predict great success and all this without a crystal ball.” He stepped next to her and poured himself another shot. “Why? What are you worried about?”
“This is just all so big and the bigger they are the harder they fall. Everyone in town has heard about the venture and most didn’t think I could pull it off. The city council already hates me for bringing in more traffic. More people from all over the Bay Area coming into Fortune. They can’t get as much tax revenue from me, you know. I’m not a housing development. So if I’m a flop, I’m going to be a spectacular flop.”
“Not going to be a flop.”
“Good, because my parents would love that.”
He kept quiet, eyeing her carefully, letting her talk. She seemed to enjoy doing all of the talking and he found he didn’t mind listening.
“I was supposed to do corporate America and the safe thing. It wasn’t me, but they didn’t seem to care. They pretty much wished I’d do anything else but this. Not supportive, in other words.” She slammed another shot.
He quirked a brow, slid a look at the shot, then back to her. She ignored him. “But they’re coming to the opening, right?”
No matter what other people said about their parents, Sam found them to be hollow complaints in the end. He didn’t know anyone else who’d been basically disowned so his perspective was probably skewed.
“Nope.”
This surprised him. Jill had been raised in the land of helicopter parenting. Silicon Valley parents were not known for their absentee ways. Had someone forgotten to give them the memo?
“To them, this isn’t a big deal at all. They’ll be in Paris.” She served him another shot, which he did not take. “Who am I kidding? I’m sure I’d be in Paris if I had the chance.”
“No. You wouldn’t.”
She slid him a look of defiance that softened a little when she met his eyes. “You’re right. Screw Paris when we’ve got the ridge.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He went ahead and took that shot. “But I understand what it’s like to have parents who are less than supportive of what you choose to do with your life.”
Her eyes widened. Yeah, he got that a lot. Who didn’t support their son when it seemed all of America did? When he’d been stateside, his money wasn’t any good in bars. Drinks on the house. Keep ’em coming. A clap on the back. Thank you for your service, son. But not his pa
rents. They opposed both war and the military. He’d been the crack that tore through their happy little progressive family because he didn’t go along with their rule book. Because he had his own mind and wanted to find his path.
“Really?”
“Not too popular around the home front.”
“And where is that home front...exactly?”
“Berkeley. That’s where I should have gone to school had I not signed up when I turned eighteen.”
“Oh. That’s...rough.”
“You know a lot about me now. You know why my parents are not my emergency contacts. They don’t want to be.”
She eyed him with a look of concern and outright pity that he did not appreciate.
“Don’t,” he ordered.
“Don’t what?”
“Do not feel sorry for me. Just don’t do it.”
“It’s compassion. I don’t like pity, either, believe me. For a year of my life, everyone in my family treated me like an invalid. It made me sad and then it made me so. Damn. Mad.”
He squinted, not comprehending. “Why would they treat you like an invalid?”
“I got very sick with scarlet fever. Ironic, huh? A redhead with scarlet fever. Some kids wind up with permanent damage to the heart, though it’s rare. I lost a year of school, and my parents were worried. For good reason, I know, but it got suffocating. I got attention for all the wrong reasons. There’s nothing I hate more than feeling helpless and weak. They have always encouraged me to use my brain instead of my body. Which, you know, could give out or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I got my education, but when I didn’t want to do the corporate thing they turned their worry for me into disappointment. Much better, right?”
“But you’re okay now?” He couldn’t help asking considering the workout he’d just given her. “Your heart?”
She took another shot. “Yes, I’m okay. Clean bill of health.”
“Good.”
Her eyes dipped to his chest as if she’d just now noticed he’d dressed, all except for the shirt. Which meant... Hell, he didn’t know what it meant. He was in uncharted territory again. Uncomfortable. Because when he walked out that door, this wasn’t over like last time. It couldn’t be. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t want this to be over. Not yet. But the one thing he understood, the only thing that brought him comfort now, was the thumping sound of his heart rate escalating. A rush of adrenaline pumped through him and he felt alive. Useful.
She stepped toward him. One finger traced a line from his pec down to his abs.
He grasped her wrist. “Careful.”
Her eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance as she glared at the hand wrapped around her wrist. “Or...?”
“Or this one more time becomes two more times.” Her pulse quickened under his fingers and the rush he felt from that was unexpected but welcome.
“I don’t have a problem with that. Do you?”
Hell, lack of a bed had never stopped him before. “Not one.”
Gripping her hips, he lifted her to the small kitchen counter and stepped between her thighs.
“Don’t let me break this counter.”
Chapter Eleven
When Jill woke the next morning, she was on her stomach, snuggled among blankets and pillows, unable to move from her soft, warm spot on the... On the floor? She went up on one elbow and forced her other eye open as memories of last night came back to her in slow percolating waves.
Oh, baby.
She rolled to her back. Last night, she and Sam had broken her cot. Broken it! There had been a little drinking afterward—mostly on her part, come to think of it—and then the kitchen counter had come in handy. Next, she’d found it was possible to fit two people in her tiny shower stall. But just barely and only if those two people didn’t mind being connected at the hip. Later, Sam had separated the bed’s frame from the cushion part and laid it on the floor with some of his blankets and pillows. He’d offered once more to move his bed and when she’d refused yet again, he’d pulled her into his arms on the floor.
Where she’d slept some of the best sleep she’d had in weeks. The sleep of babies and pets. The slumber of those who didn’t worry about anything at all. And she happened to be sore in the best way possible. Not gym sore. Sex sore. Sam wasn’t on the floor next to her, which didn’t surprise her. The last time they’d done this one-shot deal, she’d been the one to sneak out. It was his hotel room and she’d left him sated, satisfied and asleep, one brawny arm thrown over his face.
Who in the world didn’t support their son when he chose to serve in the military? She’d never heard of such a thing. Jill was about as patriotic a person as they came and no matter what she thought of the conflicts, she would never turn against the men and women who simply wanted to serve their country. It was difficult to believe anyone would. Her parents hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of Ryan entering the service, but they’d gone along with it when he went to the Academy first. Probably thinking that he’d avoid combat being an officer. Not smart enough to realize Ryan would do no such thing. But they’d supported him no matter what. Obviously, he was their favorite.
Damn! She’d forgotten to ask Sam if he was an only child. Still, that was no excuse. Maybe she’d ask Sam if he’d like to invite his parents to the grand opening. A way to mend fences and such. Then again, she should stay out of it. Sometimes she was far too optimistic and got a bit annoying. It was her weak spot. She could almost hear Ryan telling her in no uncertain terms that regardless of how good her intentions might be, she didn’t understand what a soldier had been through. All the battle scars that changed who they were. This was a complicated situation. She should stay out of it.
But she couldn’t understand disowning a son because he’d gone against his parents’ wishes to do something as noble as serve his country. They’d obviously done so only to stop him from going, and when that hadn’t worked they were stuck. Once a person took the tough love stance there was no backing down without losing face. Go back on your word, or lose contact with your son. A heartbreaking choice.
There was a knocking on her trailer door and the sound of a voice she recognized far too well. “You must be in there because I see your truck.”
Oh crap. Ryan. She so did not want him to see the broken cot. Maybe he wouldn’t notice? But of course he would! He was the Sheriff, for the love of coffee.
“I’ll be right there.” She jumped up and dressed quickly, throwing on yesterday’s clothes. Jeans. A Wildfire Ridge polo.
She stepped outside before Ryan could even think about coming inside the trailer.
Her big brother was holding two coffees from The Drip. “Morning, sleep monster.”
“Oh my god, this is why I love you so much.” She accepted the cup and drank deeply of her favorite liquid on the planet.
It helped her form complete sentences and do simple math before noon.
“Did you forget?” Ryan asked, glancing down at her clothes.
“I know, I know. You don’t like me sleeping up here, but it got late and there was a spreadsheet.” And some scotch and other fun stuff, but let’s not go there.
“No, Jilly,” her brother said with great patience, “our meeting with the mayor is this morning.”
“No!”
This morning? Yes, this morning! How could she have forgotten? It was so unlike her to forget her appointments.
“You got any other clothes in there?” Ryan nodded toward her trailer.
“Nothing any better than this.”
She looked down at her rumpled jeans and company polo. As a joke, which the guys had found hilarious, she’d had her own embroidered with Bossy Lady. Not city hall humor. Besides, she had planned to wear her red power suit complete with black pumps that clickety-clacked so everyone would know she was coming down the hall. So they could get all ready
for her awesomeness.
She did not look awesome.
Ryan glanced at his wristwatch. “Well, come on. You forced me to come to this meeting with you, remember? Moral support. We’ve got to get down the hill and to the meeting.”
“Are you crazy? How can I go like this?”
“I don’t want to reschedule. And the mayor is a busy man, not to mention this is an election year.” Ryan scowled.
“No. We can reschedule.”
“He won’t care. You’re running extreme sport events, not the Miss America campaign.”
But she was the CEO of this company. Her company. “Give me a minute.”
As quickly as she could manage without her second cup of coffee, Jill showered and dressed again. She reapplied her makeup and pulled her wild hair into a ponytail. She’d explain to the mayor she’d been busy on the ridge and didn’t have time to go home and change. She’d think of something. When she emerged, Ryan was talking to Sam. Great. She would have to act business as usual after the second most erotic night of her life.
“See you later! We have a meeting.” She hopped into Ryan’s Jeep even before he did.
When he finally eased into the driver’s seat, he gave her a puzzled look. “You take thirty minutes to get ready and you can’t take two to say good morning to your employee?”
“I said good morning!” Wait. No, she didn’t. Anyway. “We’re in a hurry.”
Besides, she was afraid that her feelings would show all over her face and in her eyes. The afterglow. It was too soon. Once she had a few more minutes and a few more ounces of coffee, she would manage to hide her thoughts from Sam and from everyone else.
He’d really rocked her world last night. She’d so wanted San Francisco to be a onetime thing because it would have made her life easier. They could have just chalked it up to loneliness or the low light and ambience of the bar or the... Anything. But no, it had to be Sam. She had this thing for him that was not going away. He was not just attractive, he’d been through so much and still he had the courage to keep moving forward. Yes, she wanted him. But the worst news of all was that she had started to need him.
More than One Night Page 9