by Tes Hilaire
His jaw firmed, the muscle rolling. “Not stalking.”
“No? What then? Because in my world people don’t follow other people around like that. Not if they don’t want to be handed a restraining order.”
“Bodyguards do.”
She shook her head. “What? So now you’ve appointed yourself my bodyguard? What makes you think I need protecting?”
“Don’t you?”
She planted a hand on her hip, making sure the movement pulled her jacket back enough to remind him of her gun. “No.”
The word hung in the air, the stubborn tension in his jaw telling her he didn’t agree with her. She expected him to say something, try to drive his point home, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he countered with his own question, yet it took her aback anyhow.
“What were you doing in that area that first night, Jessica?” he asked, the import obviously on the fact that she’d been in a dangerous part of town and that he, at least, believed she was foolish to be there.
“You mean the street I was on when I saw you chasing some helpless woman?” she asked, her hackles rising.
He gave a self-defeating chuckle. “Not helpless. I guarantee you that.”
“But you were there.”
“As were you.” He waited a beat, his head cocking to the side. “Why?”
“For my job. I’m a cop, remember? And contrary to popular police dramas, it’s not all glamour and glory.”
“But you went alone. Without backup. You telling me that’s normal?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Really what was there to say? He was right, and though she could have come up with some sort of BS, it didn’t matter. She’d already explained too much of herself and her actions. What she needed to do was kick him out so she could drive back to the station and file the evidence.
He began pacing; bringing attention to how tall and muscular he was as he ate up what little room there was under the slanted ceilings of the loft. His movements, the energy that seemed to radiate off him as he propelled himself across the space then back again, were both absorbing and fascinating. And again her opportunity to steer the conversation was foiled.
“Damn it, Jessica. Places like that are not safe. Not even when the sun is out. If you don’t want me following you around ready to jump to your aid, then, for the love of all things holy, don’t put yourself into such dangerous situations!”
“Now you sound like Mike.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Maybe you should listen to him.” He stopped his pacing. His eyes narrowing on her. “Who is this Mike anyway?”
She blinked at him, choosing to let him stew instead of answering. He sounded jealous and darn it, she had to admit she was a little thrilled by that fact, even as she berated herself for feeling that way. How could he be the bad guy? Even though he wasn’t being a hundred percent truthful, he wasn’t exactly a proficient liar. She could tell where he was hedging the facts. She believed that he wasn’t involved in either Rhodes’s or her informant’s death. She wanted to believe that his actions regarding the prostitute could be explained. She wanted to trust him. Really, really wanted to.
And why couldn’t he be the good guy? Alex was a lawyer; he had to have shown his ID at the police station. What were the chances that he and Logan had been out in that part of town for the same reason she was? Did that woman they were chasing know something that Alex needed for one of his cases? Is that why they were there? For answers? Was Logan prevaricating because of some damn nondisclosure clause he’d signed with the stupid lawyer? If that were true, it shed a whole new light on this entire situation. One she might even be able to live with.
Hope riding high in her chest, she opened her mouth to ask, but Logan beat her to it.
“Why were you there, Jessica? Trying to get killed?”
She sucked in a breath, shaking her head at the absurdity of his accusation. “I wasn’t trying to get killed.”
“You weren’t? Could have fooled me.”
“Of course not!”
“Damn it, Jessica. I can’t understand you. You won’t tell me why you were there. You won’t let me help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“What do you want then? To die? What happened to you that you’re so obsessed with avenging others’ deaths that you don’t even care about your own life?”
“I do care about my own life.”
“Prove it.”
She laughed. “How? Should I dance a jig? Maybe grab a bottle of wine and whoop it up on the beach?” She shook her head. “Staying focused and doing my job doesn’t mean that I don’t have a life or that I don’t care about staying alive to live it.”
He was silent for a long time. She could feel the burn of his stare upon her, licking at every inch of exposed skin. She hoped to hell he couldn’t see through her. His words had hit a hell of a lot closer to home than she’d thought possible. How could this man have read her better than people who who’d known her her whole life? Her own partner thought her reckless, but this man—in less than two days of knowing her—had already figured out that it had nothing to do with recklessness but rather sheer determination. She’d solve the case. Put every one of the bastards in jail. Even if it was the last thing she did.
She figured there was no more to say on the topic. He’d made his point; she’d basically told him to shove it and mind his own business, so when he spoke, the whispered words like a caress across her senses, it made her blink in surprise. “How about you just kiss me.”
She had to shake her head to clear the cobwebs that must be covering her ears. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
“I said, kiss me.”
“Kiss you.”
He nodded. “Yes. We both know you want to. That I want you to.”
“So kissing you would prove what exactly?”
“Not much. But it is what you want. Isn’t it?”
“And you think I’m too busy being a cop to take what I want in life? Is that it?”
He didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. He was bullying her. He figured that such a challenge would get him what he wanted. That she’d back down and in so doing prove his point. She could tell by his body language—arms folded across his chest, brow cocked in smug challenge—that he didn’t think she would do it.
Well joke was on him. Because, damn it, he was right. She did put her job before all else. Gave too damn much of her life to a cause she could never possibly win. Until tonight. Tonight she’d invited him out here. And no matter how many times she told herself she’d done so for answers, the truth was much simpler than that. She wanted him. End of story. And whether she trusted him didn’t matter in the end. She’d been compromised at the first kiss. Mike was going to be pissed. There was a good chance internal affairs would be involved. At the very least she would find herself in the shrink’s office, removed from duty for who knew how long. At the worst…
He won’t ever want to see me again. And why should he? Why would Logan ever trust her if he compromised his values and told her his secrets only to have her turn on him by submitting the tapes anyway? All of a sudden Jessica was glad she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask for sure if he was working for Alexander. It made the culpability for what she was about to do just a little less. Because she was going to do it. She was going to kiss him, taste him, one last time before the end.
She raised her chin, taking a step forward. If possible his brow rose even higher, only this time in obvious surprise. His arms dropped to his sides, his weight shifting back on his heels.
“I’m sorry. That was…” His gaze dragged down over her, hunger in his eyes. But then he shook his head. “You don’t have to, Jessica. I was just trying to…”
“Push me into a corner?” she asked, laying a hand on his chest.
“Not exactly, I was just…” His heart beat hard and heavy under her hand, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Damn.”
And wasn’t that empowering? Who knew the simple threat of a kiss, a kiss he’d asked for, could do what she’d wanted to do five minutes before: put him on guard.
Relishing her power, she dragged her finger down his sternum, thrilling at each rise and dip of his washboard abs, and when her hand got to the rim of his jeans, the tips of her fingers hitched themselves into the fabric, causing him to suck in his breath, she smiled in triumph.
Oh yeah. She was going to do it. Take. Exactly. What. She. Wanted.
“Damn it, Jessica. Don’t do that.”
“Why not? Isn’t this what you asked for?” She slid her fingers farther into his jeans and yanked him closer. He cursed, but she noted he didn’t pull back. Or remove her hand. Or try to hide how much he wanted it, too. Damn the man had a nice package. Large enough to make her fingers itch with the desire to check it out sans jeans, make sure it was real.
“I said kiss me, not toy with me.”
“Why not? Obviously I like toying with you. And this is all about taking what I want, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice nothing but a low purr that surprised even her. She’d had lovers, not many, but for the most part those encounters were experimentation more than anything else, an attempt to see if she could let go enough to enjoy the moment and take what her body craved. Passion. And the results of those experiments had taught her one thing: Her only passion was for justice. But her body throbbed with alarming need. Logic, right and wrong, fled her mind. She wanted him, and set out to prove it by rubbing her body up and down his.
He growled. At the same time, his hands came down on her shoulders, his grip almost bruising as he seemed to war with himself over whether to pull her in or push her away. For a moment she thought perhaps he decided on the latter, just the slightest pressure on her collarbone. Something snapped inside her, something that had her own body tensing, her fingers digging like claws into the denim fabric.
No. She hadn’t gotten her kiss yet. Not that it would be enough. A simple kiss to prove him wrong was no longer an option. Not when her body practically wept at the thought of not tasting him again.
She lunged, her other hand snaking around his neck, practically pulling herself up his body so she could reach her destination. She needn’t have been so scared. His hands left her shoulders, but only so they could lock on her hips, his head dipping as he ground his pelvis against her. So real, and oh God that felt so good.
Their mouths came together like two greedy animals, ready to devour each other. It probably should’ve been scary or somewhat disconcerting to have gone from zero to tongue down each other’s throats in two seconds flat, but it wasn’t. It was sublime.
“Aw, crap. Too good.” He muttered this between his attempts to swallow her whole. And she had to agree, even as she cursed herself for meeting him lip for lip, tongue for tongue, teeth for teeth. She hadn’t trusted her memories of that first kiss back in his brownstone. Hadn’t believed it could have been so mind-blowing, so oh-please-please-fuck-me-now good. She’d been wrong.
Hell, was that her moaning like some porno slut? Was that her hand clenching his ass? Her other tearing at the bottom of his undershirt, trying to release it from his jeans?
Something hit the back of her thighs. She realized belatedly that while she’d pulled him closer with her hand on his ass, he’d done his best to oblige, only he was so much bigger and stronger and she’d inadvertently given ground and now here they were, her ass pressed up against the antique table, her left leg lifting—without permission, darn it—to wrap around said luscious ass. He made another sound like a growl, lowering her down with one hand as his other swept behind her, dozens of paint brushes clattering on the floor. Then he was over her, his weight heavy against her pelvis, and holy heck yes those were his hands kneading at her breasts through her shirt, making them throb and ache. Only now that they were there, she didn’t just want his hands over her shirt she wanted them under.
“Logan, wait. Let me…” She pushed his hands away, ignoring the low growl he gave her as she did. Then, without even a thought to the implication of getting naked with him, she started pulling at the buckles on her holster. And since what she was doing obviously seemed like a good idea to him too he started doing the same, with the buttons of his shirt that is, only his buttons were easier than her stiff buckles as he just had to yank it off along with his undershirt so, considerate man that he was, he started helping her.
It didn’t take them long. Seconds maybe for him to jerk her up enough off the table to free her shoulders so he could void her properly of her blazer and shoulder harness, another two to yank her tank over her head and for his mouth to come down over her breast, but way too damn long as far as she was concerned. She needed him.
***
He was so fucked.
Giving in to the temptation of her lips had been a fatal mistake, but the small bit of logic screaming at him that this was a stupid, stupid idea was no more than a bucket of water against the raging inferno of a forest wildfire.
He couldn’t stop. But damn, he should at least find them a bed. Certainly something better than the paint-splattered floor or some unstable table. But the thought of lifting his mouth from her breast, even if it would only be for the short period of time it would take to get down the stairs and down that short hall he’d seen, to a bedroom seemed like too much. Too much time. Too much effort.
He needed to save his energy for this. Because damn if she wasn’t going to consume him.
“Jessica, wait. Let me…” He tried to shift her away from the table. If they were going to do it here, he was going to be on the bottom.
He would not have her lovely ass covered in splinters.
“No. No waiting,” she insisted, taking the opportunity to stand up and rapidly strip off her jeans and boots. She must have thought the process took too long because she was swearing vividly the whole time, practically ripping the laces to get her boots off, but he didn’t think so. God, she was gorgeous—the spill of dark curls over her shoulders, her long torso, the tapered waist…that ass—and his. All his. He could look at her forever and not get enough, but she obviously had other ideas. Her second boot barely hit the floor and she was up, kicking her ankles free of her jeans as her fingers eagerly sought the waist of his. The button had already popped so it didn’t take much for the zipper to give, and then, oh hell, her slim hand was wrapping around his cock, tugging it free from his jeans, her other hand pushing down the offending material.
“Just a second. I need to…” He tried to step back further, but her slender hands were amazingly strong and amazingly sweet on his cock and he ended up tripping in the tangle of his jeans. It was either fall backward or forward and since forward put him closer to his ultimate goal…
They bumped back into the table, only this time he helped her—okay pushed her—all the way back onto it. Her eyes widened—probably thought he was some lust-crazed monster, and wasn’t that damn close to the truth. But first.
He grabbed her wrist. “Let go.”
Her answer to that was a glare, and a tightening of her grip, which felt way too good. He couldn’t do this much longer, not without losing all control, but before he did he had to do one thing.
“Please,” he managed to articulate from behind his gritted teeth.
Hesitantly, almost reluctantly she let him go. But not before she dragged a finger across the tip of his cock, swiping up the bead of moisture that eagerly waited there, and bringing it to her lips to suck up.
He cursed, his head—both of them—practically popping off from the eroticism of it. She had no idea what she was doing to him. None. He may not know every hidden secret of her soul but he knew one thing…his Jessica, tough as she was, wasn’t cruel. And what she j
ust did was beyond so.
He tore his gaze away from her swollen lips, trying not to think of where that drop of moisture had gone and yes, where his dick now badly wanted to follow—inside the slick heat of her mouth.
Only thing better would be the slick heat of her sex.
Pulling at his rumpled jeans he worked to free his wallet from the back pocket. Even though it had been a non-issue since for pretty much forever, he always carried a condom for that just-in-case scenario. And yeah, there was a part of him that wanted to screw the condom. The thought of getting Jessica, his woman, pregnant, her belly plump and round with his child, brought a chokehold to his throat and had him hesitating. But no, that would not be fair to her. Besides, what if the child didn’t inherit his genetics for power? Then two people he loved beyond life would die on him.
As if that would really matter. Your mate is as human as they come so you’re already fucked, dickwad.
But even that gut-twisting thought didn’t stop him from rolling on the rubber, cursing the whole time he did because, yeah, he shouldn’t do this. He knew what the consequences would be beyond the obvious losing his sanity to the mind-blowing sex he knew they would have…but she didn’t.
Right now she could walk away and suffer nothing more than some momentary, soul-deep what-ifs. But even then she’d be okay. She’d move on. She’d find another man. She’d marry him and have kids and have a completely fulfilling whole other life without him in it. And damn but didn’t that make him angry just thinking about it. But the point was whether it was too late for him or not, it wasn’t for her, and if he were any sort of decent man at all he’d stop, pull up his pants, and walk out the door.
“Jess, I can’t—”
“Logan, so help me if you don’t get inside of me right now…” she didn’t finish the threat, but lifted herself enough to fuse her mouth back to his. And goddamn, it was too late. Because, yup, that was his cock that he was guiding toward the slick, sweet folds of her sex and yup that was his tongue playing tonsil hockey with hers as she grabbed onto his ass, pulling him closer, urging him on. The call to claim her burning like a hungry fire.