by Jennie Marts
“We don’t have to talk. We don’t even have to be in the same room. You can stay on the sofa,” she said, her voice soft. “But I won’t be able to get a wink of sleep worrying about you out here on the porch.”
“I’m fine.” His stubbornness at times could be both endearing and infuriating. Right now, it was weighing in on the infuriating side.
“Jesus, Jack. Just come inside.”
“Okay, okay. But I’m staying on the sofa.” He grumbled as he gathered his things. He draped the sleeping bag around her shoulders as he followed her inside the house. “You should cover up, just in case anyone is watching.”
In all the commotion, she’d forgotten that she was only clothed in a tank top and her underwear. The tank was long, but it still only barely covered her bikini panties.
Pulling the sleeping bag around her, she locked the door behind him.
He pushed back the curtains to the backyard, only a few feet, but enough to see out and to bathe the room in silvery moonlight.
Taking off the headlamp, he switched off the light and set it and his book on the coffee table, then stretched out on the sofa.
Crossing the room, she stood nervously at his feet. “You want a glass of water or something to drink?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Another blanket? I could get you a better pillow.”
“Really, Murphy. I’m fine. I’m not going to do a lot of sleeping anyway.”
A pang of guilt ran through her at what he was giving up to watch over her. “Well, good night then.”
“Good night.”
She took a tentative step forward. “Can I just sit here with you? For a minute? We don’t have to talk. I just need a minute to calm down.”
“Sure.” He grudgingly turned sideways, pressing his back against the sofa and patting the spot in front of him.
The sleeping bag was hot and uncomfortable, and she dropped it to the floor before sitting down on the edge of the couch, dying to nestle against him but not wanting to push him away. Her back was mere inches from his stomach, and her nerves tingled at the simple nearness of him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They sat quietly together, neither speaking, as she listened to his breathing settle. Turning her head, she looked down at him.
His eyes were closed, his chest slowly rising and falling, his arm outstretched and hanging loosely off the edge of the sofa. So much for not going to be sleeping anyway.
She lifted a hand, wanting to brush the lock of dark hair from his forehead—just wanting to touch him, period. To run her fingers through his hair or softly caress his cheek.
Letting out a sigh, she started to get up, then changed her mind and eased down next to him. Spooning her body against his, she lay her head down on his outstretched arm, holding her breath as she waited for him to push her away.
Instead, he curled his arm up and tightened it around her, drawing her close as he slid his other arm around her as well. Tangling his leg around hers sent shivers of heat coursing through every place that their bare skin touched.
He nuzzled his face into her neck.
She let out her breath, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she relaxed against him.
They lay quietly like that for several minutes, long enough that she thought he might have fallen asleep.
“I hate that I can’t protect you,” he whispered softly against the side of her face, his breath tickling her skin.
“What do you mean? You’re here. Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She kept her voice low and her body still, not wanting to spook him.
“Not now. Earlier. At the bar.”
“Oh.” She wanted to tell him it was no big deal—that nothing bad had really happened. But she’d tried that earlier and it had only made him more upset. Instead, she held her tongue, saying nothing while she waited for him to speak, the darkness offering a kind of safety net to be able to talk more openly.
“I’m not like my brothers. And I never will be. It doesn’t matter how much I bench press or how far I can run, I’ll never be like them. I’ll never be the kind of guy that throws a punch in a bar fight.”
“I never asked you to be.”
“You didn’t have to. That’s always been the kind of guy that’s been drawn to you. The kind that circles you like flies.”
“That’s an attractive image.” She felt him draw back, and she softened her tone. “It doesn’t matter what kind of guy is attracted to me. It matters what kind of guy I’m attracted to.”
“Your whole world is wrapped up in athleticism, in power and strength. Hell, your sport encourages its players to slam into each other and to drop their gloves and slug each other in the face. It’s what you’re used to, what you deal with every day. How could you ever be happy with the kind of guy that’s never gonna win a fight like that?”
“Did you ever think that one of the reasons that I like you so much is because you aren’t like that? Why would you think I’d want to date a bully or someone that likes to pick fights?”
“I didn’t say you want to date a bully, but why would you want someone that gets bullied? Let’s face it, I’m a nerd, a geek. I like science fiction, and I think physics is fun. I look forward to picking up tacos and spending a night at home dissecting a computer hack or writing a new piece of code. What woman, especially a beautiful and fun woman like you, is going to find that interesting or want to hang out with me?”
Her heart broke at the disparaging way he was talking about himself. She picked up his hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “I love tacos.”
He sighed. “It’s about more than the tacos, and you know it.”
She let go of his hand and rolled over—a tough maneuver to do on the couch—so she was facing him. She wanted to look him in the eye, to convey the feelings behind her words.
His face was shadowed in the darkened room, but she reached up and rested her hand against his cheek, tilting his head toward hers. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re funny and smart and the fact that you even know how to code or to hack anything is incredible. Your intelligence is something I admire in you. And think about it from my perspective—why would someone as brainy as you want to hang out with a dumb jock like me?”
He reared his head back. “What are you talking about? First of all, you are not a dumb jock. You’re funny and smart, too. You make me laugh, and you’re so damn beautiful. And sexy as hell. What chance does a guy like me have with a woman like you?”
“A pretty damn good one. Because I think you’re sexy as hell, too. Especially when you talk about physics.”
Her joke fell flat. His face registered a look of misery. “I’m serious, Murphy. I do think you’re beautiful, but I really care about you, too. I always have.”
“I am being serious, too. I really care about you as well. And it’s making me mad that I have to try this hard to convince you of that fact. I thought you were so cute the first time I ever saw you—with your glasses and your inhaler. I loved hanging out with you, loved to listen to you talk about math and science. You brought them alive for me by the way you spoke so passionately about them. I was the one who never felt like I could measure up in your eyes—never be smart enough for you to want to talk to me.”
“I always wanted to talk to you. I still do.”
“Well, I don’t. I don’t want to talk anymore.” She rolled on top of them, then sat up, straddling his waist. “I’d rather show you how I really feel.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath as she peeled her tank top over her head and tossed it to the floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Murphy pushed back her shoulders, affording Jack a perfect view of her now mostly naked body. A tiny slip of black and lace bikini panties was all she still wore.
But she wanted him to know she was serious, serious about him, about them.
She stared down at him, her gaze lingering on his lips a moment before meeting his eyes. “I thought you were cute as
a teenager, but I think you’re ridiculously hot as a man. You have gorgeous eyes and rock hard abs, and I think your glasses are crazy sexy. I don’t want to hear any more shit about how you’re not tough enough or strong enough. You were tough enough to stick up for me against those guys at the bar and your hands were strong enough to have me singing the hallelujah chorus against a tree in the woods tonight.”
A small smile drew up the corners of his lips. “The hallelujah chorus?”
She grinned back, a slow sexy grin in what she hoped was a seductive look. “Yeah. And I’d love to sing it again, if you’d just shut up and kiss me.” She leaned down, brushing her lips against his in a soft, tantalizing kiss. Her nipples tightened, sending a zing of pleasure shooting through her as they grazed his chest.
He reached his hand up, circling her neck and drawing her face closer to his as he captured her mouth. Deepening the kiss, his other hand swept up her back, sending darts of heat over her bare skin.
The kiss was a sexy, passion-filled, toe-curling kind of kiss—but it was more than that. She could feel the emotion, the longing, the deep hunger in the intensity of his touch and the soft moan he released against her lips.
He broke the kiss, but only long enough to flip her over and yank his own shirt off. It dropped to the floor as he leaned down, covering her neck with ravenous kisses as his hands moved greedily over her body.
Filling his palms with her full breasts, he kissed each one then circled her taut nipple with his tongue before sucking it between his lips. Shivers of heat swept through her, and she arched her back, her body aching for more. More of his touch, his hands, his mouth.
She clutched his shoulders then slid her hands down his back, skimming under the waistband of his shorts and pushing them down over his hips. She couldn’t get him naked fast enough.
He got the message, pulling back to finish undressing himself before hooking his fingers inside of her bikini panties and drawing them down her legs then tossing them in the growing pile of discarded clothes.
The pulse beat in her throat as she fought to catch her breath, the need for him so strong that it threatened to overwhelm her.
Every cell in her body tingled with anticipation as he lowered himself on top of her. He braced himself up with his arm next to her head, the muscles taut in his biceps, and she wanted, needed, to feel those strong arms wrapped around her.
Her senses were on hyper alert as she felt everything around her—the textured fabric of the sofa against her back, the weight of his hips, the subtle scent of his aftershave, and the moonlight glowing silver across his toned chest.
Then she forgot to breathe altogether as he smoothed a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle as he looked down at her, his gaze lingering on her lips for just a moment before he slanted his mouth against hers, crushing her lips in a hungry kiss and carrying her away.
Jack woke to the sun shining through the crack in the window, his body cramped as he still lay spooned on the sofa with Murphy. His arm was asleep and tingling where she rested her head against it.
They were still naked, but covered by the sleeping bag. The dog was also on the sofa, curled into the folds of the fabric at their feet.
He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to wake her. She looked like an angel, her skin porcelain smooth and the silky strands of her blond hair forming a golden halo around her face.
She might look angelic, but the things she’d done to him last night were far from saintly. Although they did feel heavenly.
He smiled at his own inner joke.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I thought you were still asleep.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she offered him a sleepy grin. “I could feel you smiling.”
“I was just thinking about how pretty you looked when you slept.” And how blessed he felt.
His grin widened. He did it again. He couldn’t help it. The angel puns were just too easy.
She lifted her hand to her mussed hair. “You must need your glasses. I’m a mess.”
“A beautiful mess. And for the record, I can see close up just fine.”
The doorbell rang, startling them both and sending Winston off the couch and into a flurry of barking.
Murphy gave him an alarmed look. “Who the hell is here this early in the morning?”
He tilted his wrist, glancing at his watch, and was surprised to see it was close to eleven. “It’s not that early.” He grabbed his glasses off the coffee table and put them on as he hollered toward the door. “Who is it?”
“Mailman,” came the muffled response. “Got a couple of packages for ya.”
“Just leave them on the porch,” Murphy yelled.
“No problem.”
“Thank you,” she called, even though he had probably already walked away. She sat up, stretching her naked body, then—much to his disappointment—grabbed her top from the floor and pulled it on over her head. “I wonder who sent me a package. I don’t think I’ve ordered anything lately.”
Opening the door cautiously, she peered through the crack to make sure the mailman had gone then stooped down to pick up the packages he’d left, flashing Jack with a fabulous view of her…well, pretty much her everything.
He blinked, swallowing, his heart hammering in his chest, and thankful as hell that he’d already put his glasses on.
Holy shit. Was he really here? In Murphy Ryan’s house? Had he really just spent the night with her, having wild and reckless sex on the sofa, and the floor, and the sofa again? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, even though he’d wrapped his body around hers.
She closed the door quickly, then gave him a flirty and knowing grin that told him she knew exactly what she was doing when she bent over.
Laughing, she carried over a flat square box topped with a manila envelope and a small stack of mail and dumped them on the sofa.
She grabbed a pair of scissors from the counter in the kitchen and cut the top off of the manila envelope then poured a flurry of envelopes onto the couch between them.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” she said as she sifted through the stack of envelopes. “It’s just a bunch of bills and junk that Carl forwarded from my old address.”
His back bristled at the mention of another man. “Who’s Carl?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Jealous much?”
He looked down at his hands, avoiding her amused eyes. “No…I mean…maybe. I don’t know. I was just wondering.”
She chuckled, giving his leg a light poke as she teased him. “Well, you don’t have to be jealous. Carl is just a friend. Actually he was one of my only friends. He lived in the apartment across from mine. We met one day when I spilled a bag of Chinese food on the floor in front of his door. After that, we became fast friends, and he instigated Messy Mondays so every Monday night, we got together in our messy sweats and spent the night on the sofa eating Chinese takeout and watching cheesy romantic comedies. I miss that guy.”
“Sounds to me like he might have been interested in more than watching movies with you. Maybe he meant those nights to be messing-around Mondays.”
“It wasn’t like that. We were just friends. Besides, I’m pretty sure he was gay.” She’d been cutting open the box as she talked and the subject of Carl, the possibly-gay, romantic comedy-watching, Chinese-food eating neighbor was dropped as she pulled a clear plastic bag from the box and let out an excited squeal.
The bag held a pink T-shirt identical to the one that he’d spilled paint on the first day they’d worked on the house together. He’d spent hours online trying to find a replica of the shirt but in all of the excitement of the past several days, had forgotten that he’d ordered it.
The look on her face was worth every minute of his time.
She held the shirt up then looked over at him, her eyes wide. “Did you do this?”
He shrugged. “I felt bad about ruining the other one. You said it was one of your favorite shirts.”
/> “Yeah, but how did you find another one?”
“It was no big deal. Just did a little searching until I found one online.”
“You are the sweetest guy ever. I can’t believe you did this.”
He shrugged again, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he eyed the shirt. “Maybe you should try it on and make sure it fits.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, her lips parting in a seductive smile. “You’re just trying to get me to take my top off again.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Grabbing the hem of her tank top, she slowly peeled it off, then crawled across the sofa and straddled his lap.
He gulped. She’d looked sexy as hell in only the thin little tank top, but naked and sitting on top of him, she was glorious. All thoughts of the new shirt or the old neighbor flew from his mind as he reached for her.
Two hours later, and only in his underwear, Jack stood in front of the refrigerator, the door open and cooling his heated body. He didn’t know what he expected to find. The same scarce items sat on the bare shelves as the day before: a half-gallon of milk, a tub of butter, a bag of shredded cheese, some eggs, and a bottle of ketchup.
He heard Murphy come running down the stairs as he contemplated his choices of scrambled eggs or grilled cheese sandwiches.
“I gotta go,” she said. “I already called an Uber.”
He looked up, letting the fridge door shut. “Why? You haven’t even had anything to eat.”
“I’ll eat a protein bar on my way.”
So much for his plan to cook. “I can take you to practice. We can grab you something on the way.”
Her hair was wet and pulled into a ponytail, and she had on sneakers, shorts, and a workout top. She crossed the room and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “You don’t have to. I’ll be at the arena most of the afternoon, so I figured you’d want to shower and get some work done then maybe you could pick me up after practice, and we can grab something to eat for dinner.”
Made sense. But he still liked taking her. “I don’t mind running you over there.”