Guarding His Midnight Witness

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Mmm-hmm.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “In case it makes a difference.”

  “Oh, it makes a difference.” He stood, and for a moment, she thought he might leave, might turn away from her. Instead, he kissed her deeply and erased every doubt, every ounce of tension, all the nerves from her entire body. “It makes a big difference.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her into her bedroom. From a distance, she heard Cerberus’s soft mew, followed by a gentle plunk. “Smart cat you have.” He released her, though she kept her arms locked around him as he lowered her to the floor. “Lights. We need lights. I need to see you.”

  “Do you really?” Those nerves she thought were gone returned. “Can’t you just feel your way—”

  “Not now.” He cupped her cheek, stared into her eyes, and she felt herself tumble over that last edge of reality. “I need to see you, I need to watch you make love to me. I need to look into your eyes when I’m inside of you.”

  The very words were enough to start the anticipation building inside of her. “Okay, lights it is.” She slipped away and clicked the lights on, had just removed her shoes when he reappeared at her side. “Should I—oh, okay.” He sat her on the edge of the bed, eased her down on the mattress to leave her legs dangling over the edge. “Is there something I’m supposed to, um, do?” The zipper on her jeans eased, and he curled his fingers over the waistband, gently drew the pants and her underwear off her body. She lay there, naked and exposed, but warm under his gaze. “One of us is overdressed.” She reached out, wanted to bury her hands in that thick hair of his, wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to keep kissing him until time stopped.

  “One of us has a lot of catching up to do.” The smile that stretched his lips made his eyes shine.

  “What do you—oh!” His lips returned to her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel before he dropped down to his knees, trailed his lips lower, lower until...the room spun as he lifted her thighs, drew her open and kissed her. She convulsed, cried out, her back arching as her hands fisted in the bedspread.

  She was on fire as his mouth moved over her, pleasured her, nibbled at her. He pushed her knees farther apart, moved close enough that she could feel his hair brushing against her inner thighs. That pulsing pleasure built again. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to go over, she wanted this moment to go on and on.

  Eyes closed, she nearly lifted off the bed as his tongue circled and flicked against the nub of pleasure he paid special attention to. She panted. She moaned. She reached for him.

  “Look at me, Greta,” Jack whispered as his fingers replaced his mouth. She tried to respond but couldn’t do anything more than breathe as he slipped one finger, then another inside of her. He shifted, angling his hand so his thumb could continue to stroke her. “Let me see you go over.”

  “Jack,” she managed, unable to hold on to him any longer. “Jack, please.” His touch, his fingers, weren’t enough, she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

  “Go over, Greta.” He increased his tempo, sending her higher and higher to that peak she didn’t think was possible. Just as she felt herself tip, he pressed harder and sent her flying.

  Her body exploded. She cried out, half sobbing, half laughing, but she forced herself to keep watching him, to lock gazes with him as her body trembled through the sensations from his touch.

  When her heart rate slowed, when her body quivered and began to relax, he removed his hand, leaned up and brushed his lips against hers. “Beautiful. My beautiful, Greta.”

  A feeling of complete satisfaction had overtaken her, yet she reached for him. “More. I want more. I want it all.”

  “Oh, there will be more.” He began to unbutton his shirt. She sat up, pushed his hands away, determined to do this part herself. He drew her to her feet, a small if not arrogant smile curving his lips when her knees almost buckled. He swooped her bedspread away, threw back the blankets.

  She released button after button. When his shirt was open, she slipped her hands inside, flattened her palms against his chest and pushed the fabric down his arms. “This is what I’ve been dreaming of.” His shirt drifted to the floor. His hands moved, circled up her back, making her shiver as she pressed her lips against the smooth expanse of skin. He was beautiful, too. Solid. Male. Everything she could have wanted in a lover.

  He jolted when she laved at his nipple, her fingers dancing along the lines of his chest. She could taste his sweat, feel the tension coiled in his body, feel the hard promise of him pressing against her stomach. “Stop.” He reached up, caught her hand as it found the puckered, still-red skin of his wound. “It’s ugly.”

  “No.” She pressed her lips against the scar. “It’s you.” She slipped her arm around his neck, drew him down for a kiss that mimicked what he’d done to another part of her body moments before. “You’re perfect, Jack.” The admission nearly broke her in two. Because she knew he didn’t believe it. And she knew it wouldn’t matter. Tonight was just that. Tonight. And she was going to enjoy every moment of it. “About your pants.” She wiggled her hips and loved watching that fevered haze cloud his vision. “Would you like to remove them or should I?”

  “I think for both our sakes—” he caught her hands to draw them away from his belt “—I’d better.” But before he did, he reached into his back pocket. He held up some condom packages. “I raided Cole’s bathroom before we left. As he won’t be needing them for a while.” He tossed them onto the nightstand and finished undressing.

  “I bet you’ve always been somebody’s hero, haven’t you?” She needed to talk about something while she watched him. She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t innocent. She’d seen plenty of the male form, one of the hormonal perks of being an art student. But seeing him now, in her bedroom, knowing he was there for her, and only for her, sent the remaining doubt and fear from her mind.

  “What are you thinking?” Jack stroked a finger down her cheek.

  “A lot of things. As usual,” she added with a smile. She turned her head and kissed his finger. “But mostly I’m glad it’s going to be you.”

  “So am I.” He lifted her in his arms again and kissed her, then placed a knee on the bed and lowered her to the mattress. He tore open the package and covered himself. The instant he slid over her, the moment she felt his body pressed so completely against hers, her system began the low, deep humming once more. “We’ll go slow.”

  “Please don’t. I don’t think I can take it.” She brought one leg up, skimmed her foot up and down the back of his calf, then, seeing his eyes sharpen and fire, repeated with the other foot. She felt him settle, felt the hot, hard length of him. She watched him as she slipped a hand between them to wrap her fingers around him. There, she thought, as he gasped and moved. That was what she’d wanted to see. “Please, Jack.” She kissed his nose, each cheek, came to rest at his lips and noticed he was straining to control himself. For perhaps the first time, she didn’t want anyone controlling anything. “Love me.” She placed her mouth against his lips as she welcomed him, waiting, wanting and finally breathing when she felt him press into her.

  “Slow,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a kiss so primal, so deep, so loving, she almost forgot what else was happening. Until she couldn’t. His hips rocked against hers. He moved a hand down to catch her thigh, to pull her wider, open her farther so the length of him, the strength of him wouldn’t be so overwhelming.

  Greta groaned as he filled her, stretched her.

  “Greta?”

  “More,” she panted, bringing her legs up to wrap around him. Her hands moved down his back, to cup his buttocks and pull him in deeper. There was pain, she thought, but he eased it smoothly, vanishing under his continuous movement. The peak felt further away this time, just out of reach, but she matched her breathing to his, opened her eyes and looked into his and shot to the top. “More,” she answered the unspoken que
stion in his eyes. “Give me more, Jack. Give me everything. Let go,” she whispered and locked her mouth on his.

  She lifted her hips, met him thrust for thrust as he sank into her. Her cry was caught in his mouth. Sweat coated their skin as she rocked with him, tangled with him, every thought, every fear that had become a part of her now faded beneath his touch until finally, after a life-altering moment, after one perfect kiss, he drove them over the edge.

  * * *

  It was, Jack thought, quite possibly the best night of his life. There had been something primal about their lovemaking; not in intensity, but knowing, feeling, that this amazing, smart woman had chosen him.

  “I can hear you thinking.” Greta’s breath was warm against his chest, tucked against him so completely he didn’t ever want to move. “Care to share?”

  “In a bit.” He lifted her hand, pressed his mouth to her fingers. Then turned her hand to admire the narrow leather cuff she always wore. “What is this? No, Greta.” He held on when she tried to move away. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Not yet. But tell me about this.”

  She leaned over him, her hair falling loose of her braid. In the depths of her eyes he saw the battle, saw her struggle, either with the truth or the reality. He drew her down, kissed her, waited until the tension melted away again. He flicked the snap free. The cuff fell onto the mattress, and beneath it, he found the scars.

  “I was fourteen.” Tears splashed onto his skin when she blinked.

  “Greta.”

  “It was just all too much. Everything closed in. I wanted to be with them.”

  “Your parents?”

  She nodded and, to his surprise and relief, she lay back down, her head nestled into his shoulder. “There wasn’t any buildup. I don’t even remember thinking about it, really. One day I just...” She took a deep breath. “Therapy helped. Uncle Lyndon helped, and Yvette. Now I wear the cuff to remember. When things get difficult or suffocating, I use it to remind myself there’s always something on the other side. And there is.” She tilted her head back to look up into his face. “There’s something wonderful.”

  He slipped his fingers through hers, turned her hand and pressed his lips against the scars. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone braver than the woman he held in his arms.

  “Now, about what you were thinking before.” She inhaled deeply and shifted over him. He could feel her, all of her, pressed completely against him. “Care to share?”

  “I do, indeed.”

  * * *

  “What are you doing?” Greta mumbled a good while later when Jack rolled her over. He stood beside the bed, hands on his hips, looking down at the most beautiful, goddess-like perfection he’d ever seen.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” He wrapped gentle hands around her ankles and pulled her toward him. She laughed, the sound zinging through him.

  “We need to pace ourselves, or we’ll be out of condoms before the drugstore opens.” She gasped when he bent down and slung her over his shoulder. “Jack! What on earth—put me down! I weigh a ton.”

  “Hardly.” He probably shouldn’t be lifting her again, but he was feeling rather invincible at the moment. He carried her into the bathroom and bent to set her on her feet beside the claw-foot tub. “Your bath, my lady.”

  “Oh.” She blinked up at him, her mouth curving in that secretive way she had whenever she was especially happy. He loved that expression. He loved creating it. “That’s just lovely.”

  “I thought so. Come on.” He got in first, held out his hand to help her in and together they sank into the warm, soapy water.

  “I could so get used to this,” she murmured as he pulled her against him, settling her as comfortably as possible between his legs and against his chest.

  “One thing I’ve been wanting to do.”

  “You still have a list?” she teased over her shoulder.

  “You’d better believe I do.” He reached for her braid, pulled off the elastic and using his fingers, untangled her hair until it spilled around her shoulders and into the water. “Now, that’s a vision.”

  “You can’t even see,” she giggled and sat up to turn around. The second she did, the moment he looked into her shining, passion-filled eyes, he knew. It was over. He was done. All the way, head-deep in love. “Jack?”

  “Yeah?” He cupped her cheek in his hand. He’d never get tired of looking at her.

  “You’re not worried, are you? About us getting involved. About what it might do to the case or your career.”

  “No.” He stroked a thumb across her lips. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure a way to make this work.” He drew her in for a kiss and caught the flash of doubt—or was that fear?—in her eyes. “No one’s going to hurt you, Greta. I promise.”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “You asked me to believe you, Greta. Now I’m asking you the same thing.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “There is no try. There is only do.”

  She blinked, pulled back. “Huh?”

  “It’s Yoda.”

  “That’s not yoga.”

  “Yo-da. You know, little green Muppet guy, lives in a swamp. Lifts spaceships with a single... You’re kidding, right?” Jack dropped his hands so fast he splashed them both. “Are you telling me I’ve fallen in love with a woman who doesn’t know Star Wars?”

  It wasn’t exactly how he’d expected to make the pronouncement. Given the way the color drained from her face, it wasn’t what she expected, either. She moved to the other end of the tub, leaving him feeling rather abandoned. “Jack, you can’t mean—”

  His cell phone rang, cutting off whatever else she’d been about to say. Whatever he didn’t want to hear her say. He reached behind him for where he’d left his phone and answered it. “It’s two in the morning, and I am occupied,” he told Cole. “This had better be—”

  “Jack, stop.” Cole’s voice snapped through the line.

  “What is it?” He sat up straight and splashed water over the edge of the tub. “What’s wrong? Is it Eden? The baby?”

  “Nothing like that. They found a body, Jack. We think it’s Calhoun.”

  Chapter 12

  For all the cop shows she’d watched over the years, Greta found nothing glamorous or entertaining about a crime scene. As there had been no way for Jack to keep what he’d heard a secret, he’d reluctantly agreed to let Greta come along, but only on the provision she remain in the car.

  Spinning red and blue lights threatened to blind her as she stared out the windshield, heat blowing, but not warm enough to take the chill from her icy hands. As quickly as their clothes had come off hours before, clean ones went on. Her hair was still damp from where it had touched the water. Definitely not how she’d expected her night with Jack to end.

  She’d lost track of the number of people on-site. Deputies and firefighters working to recover the upside-down vehicle lying half-submerged in the river, paramedics on standby or maybe, Greta thought, to transport the body to the morgue. The entire thing could very well put her off dramas all together.

  The yellow crime-scene tape had been stretched around the Green Bridge area of Discovery Park before they’d arrived, before Jack had dropped out of the car, a closed, almost stern expression on his face. “Stay here, you understand?”

  “I’m not a poodle,” she’d spat and earned a flash of regret. “But yes, I understand.” She knew why he was on edge, and it didn’t have anything to do with a late-night phone call or the body they’d found. She hadn’t responded well to his declaration of love. A declaration that had brought her pure joy and more pain than expected. It didn’t matter how much she cared for him, there could be no future for them. Not when she was so unpredictable.

  The driver’s door popped open. Greta yelped as Eden jumped in behind the wheel and slammed the door behind her. “
Whew! Cold one tonight. Weird time of year to say that.” She handed Greta a metal thermos. “Tea, right? Leaf-brewed? Jack might have mentioned. It’s decaf. Same as mine. Yuck.” She sipped and shook her head. “Don’t know how you drink this stuff. No real jolt.”

  “There can be,” Greta offered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Two a.m. phone call about a body? Kind of its own special alarm clock. I tried to go back to sleep, but the mind already started spinning. You okay?”

  “Yes.” Greta unscrewed the cap on the thermos, lifted it to her nose and sniffed. “Mint. Nice choice.”

  “I read it calms the stomach.” Eden turned and leaned back against the door. “You look different.”

  “Must be the moonlight,” Greta suggested.

  “Nope, that’s not it.” Eden inclined her head, narrowed her eyes. A few seconds later, during which Greta looked anywhere but at the crime blogger, she nodded and laughed. “Okay, got it.”

  Greta snapped her head around. “Got what?”

  “You and Jack had sex. Explains why you two blew off dessert.”

  Greta’s face went blue-flame hot. “You don’t know that.”

  Eden snorted and looked out the window where her husband and Jack were speaking with a group of deputies. “Sure, I do. Good for you. And good for Jack. He hasn’t had the best of luck with women.”

  Something about the way Eden said it reignited all those doubts Greta had managed to shove down. “Have there been a lot of women?”

  Eden flinched, as if realizing she might have said the wrong thing. “Not a lot. A few. Mostly friendly, you know? Not well, sizzling like the two of you.”

  Sizzling might be an understatement, Greta thought. She’d never imagined how...creative Jack was. Or how addictive she’d find him.

  “Actually, I’ve never seen him like how he is with you, Greta. He’s different. Calm. Protective. That’s good for him. And you, too. You seem to be a good fit.”