by Jo Leigh
“No, that’s not all. But maybe we should postpone the movie.”
She stilled, blinked at him.
Her reaction brought it home, what he’d suggested. This wasn’t supposed to continue. Tonight was a one-off, a thank-you, he imagined, for the flowers and the DVD. “Or not.”
She swallowed, even though she hadn’t had any more wine. “No, that’s a nice idea. The movie would be better if it happened after Wednesday night. After Thursday night, honestly, so I can finally get a decent night’s sleep.”
“What happens on Wednesday?”
“Big dinner. Huge dinner. It’s where I flatter the hell out of our regular donors and woo the potentials. This year there’s one very big fish I’m determined to land. He seems interested, but he’s also playing coy. Teasing me along. But it’ll be worth it. His contribution would end up in the tens of millions over the length of the endowment. That’s game-changing money. That’s schools and loans and medicine and lives saved. So many lives.”
“No wonder you’re exhausted. That’s got to be a lot of pressure.”
“Some things are worth it.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Hell, you were willing to put your life on the line. Talk about pressure.”
He looked around the kitchen until he found the big chef’s knife, then turned back to his salad and Rebecca. “Different kind, but yeah. Pressure was part of it. Not as much as deciding who gets what resources. That’s tough. For everyone who gets, there are probably dozens, hundreds who don’t.”
She shifted on her chair, although thankfully she didn’t adjust her sweater. He had to be careful because of the knife, but every chance he could, he’d look at that red strap, then her face. Holy shit.
“I don’t have to make all those decisions,” she said. “We have a board of directors. My job is to first make sure we’re always refreshing our coffers and then to narrow down the choices of how we want to spend the money. So many need so much, it’s not easy.”
“I’ll bet. I imagine you take into account what other groups are doing, try to spread the wealth?”
She nodded. “It’s a triage system. Short- and long-term goals. Maximum benefit for the greatest number of people, things that hopefully turn out to be more than quick fixes. But I’d rather hear about your house and your father. You’re doing a complete remodel?”
He grinned, thinking about what his dad would say walking into this joint. “Nope, just giving him living space on the ground floor. He has trouble with the stairs.”
“You do a lot of that DIY stuff?”
“Nope. Learning as I go. Turns out the internet is a pretty useful thing. And DVDs. Lots of how-to DVDs.” He finished the last of the chopping, put the salad together except for the dressing. He opened the containers of food, dividing the pasta and sauce between the two big plates.
Her hand on his shoulder made him jump. How had he not heard those heels click? Jesus, how rapidly his self-preservation instincts were devolving.
“I’ll get this part,” she said, so close to him that he felt the heat of her breath on his jaw.
Fast as that, he was all about Rebecca. The dinner could vanish for all he cared because her hand was still warm on his shoulder and her hip was pressing against him. He had his arms around her before he finished turning, his mouth on hers a second later.
Tasting her was better than anything on the menu. It was intimate and slow, their kiss, and maybe because he knew they were going to stop, that he wasn’t going to drag her to the bedroom right this second, he paid attention to what was happening here, what he had.
She tasted like Rebecca. Jesus, how it compressed his chest to realize he knew that taste, could have picked her out of a crowd blindfolded. And while there were a dozen different places he wanted to memorize with his tongue, for now he slicked and slid against her in a slow back-and-forth, deep and shallow. Everything was what he wanted of this small, amazing part of her. Lips, tongue, teeth, breath, heat, wet.
He’d pushed his hips against her and it was the shock wave that brought him back to the room, to dinner. He pulled away, but only because he knew he would have her again soon.
SOMEHOW, REBECCA MANAGED to slow her heartbeat and stop her shaking long enough to heat up the entrée. Jake’s salad was fantastic, and she ate more of that than the pasta. He did the reverse, so that worked out. The bottle of wine was almost finished and dessert waited, but Rebecca wasn’t terribly interested in dessert.
“I could make coffee,” he said. “There’s that last box out on the counter.”
She put down her wineglass and stood. “That’s tiramisu, if you want some. Or we could just go back to my bedroom.”
He looked up at her, and she almost laughed at the way his entire expression said there was no contest. “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked, taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips, where he kissed her palm.
“A hundred miles away.”
He rose, pulled her into his body. “The couch isn’t.”
She shook her head, letting her lips brush his as she did. “Want you in my bed.”
“Take me there.”
It wasn’t easy, letting go of him. So she didn’t. She just slid her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugged him along, moving faster with each step and each thought of what came next.
The moment she crossed the threshold of her bedroom, her shoes were history. He was pulling up her sweater before she could get her hand out of his pants. They each worked on unbuttoning and unzipping, but he won the race by a mile. And then he tugged down, hard, pulling her jeans and her panties down to her knees.
“Oh, God,” he said, and he ran his hands up the front of her thighs.
“Wait, wait. Do your shirt. I can’t—”
“I don’t care about my shirt. We have to get rid of your pants.”
“I’m trying!”
“You suck at it.” He batted her fumbling fingers away, and they concentrated on divesting themselves of their own clothes. She shed her pants; his shirt had disappeared by the time she looked up, but when she reached behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra, he said, “Wait. Don’t. Stop.”
“Don’t stop? Or Don’t. Stop?”
“Leave it on.” Then his trousers and boxer briefs hit the floor; his cock was as perfectly hard as she remembered. He whipped off his undershirt so swiftly he couldn’t hide the wince as he stressed his shoulder.
He pressed up against her, his ability to control his hips apparently gone with his clothes, which she found extremely sexy.
After a kiss that nearly missed her mouth completely, he was pushing her backward toward the bed. “Sit,” he said.
She did, wondering what he was up to.
It turned out he was going down on his knees. She worried for a moment, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain, although she doubted he could kneel long. Then he had his hands on her knees, spreading her wide.
“Watch me,” he said. His voice was unraveling. How much did she love that?”
He kept his gaze on hers as he bent forward. Her bed was high, and she had a nice view of the moment Jake switched his attention from her face to his new objective. Beginning with his lips on her inner thigh. Lips and tongue, a wicked combination. Hands and fingers, too, so that there was sensation all along the pathway to her pussy.
She wanted to press her legs together, but she couldn’t, so she squeezed what was available. Jake must have noticed because he moaned low and long as he picked up the pace.
Finally, his hot breath painted her labia, and then, softly, he licked her from the bottom of her cleft to the top.
JAKE LOST HIMSELF IN THE taste of her, in the salt on his tongue, in the scent. His fingers spread her open, and he went to town. It was gorgeous, and she was amazing, and he’d loved every second of what she tasted like and the sounds she made when he pointed his tongue and fucked her with it.
Her hand was in his hair, and when he hit pay dirt, she le
t him know. His thigh hurt, but it was so worth it. The sad part was that he couldn’t just move in, stay for the night. His cock was insistent, but his wound wouldn’t leave him be, so he kept his tongue hard and pointed and worked fast on her full, hard clit.
That brought her other hand into his hair, and if he was half-bald at the end of this, well, hair grew back.
Her thighs pressed against his ears as her moans got louder, and when she started chanting his name, he went into fifth gear.
It was a race to see if he would suffocate or she would come first.
He lived.
It was a damn good thing she had the condom at the ready, because about one hot minute later, he was on the bed. He’d flipped her over so she was on her hands and knees, and he went to heaven as he thrust inside her.
She dropped to her elbows, her head on her pillow, and he’d never seen anything so erotic in his life. So proper on the outside, so cool and collected. In here, with him, wanton, abandoned and the sexiest thing alive. But dammit, he was going to come too fast. It’s what she did to him.
He gripped her too tightly, his cock pistoned hard, hard, and he was swearing in his head because he couldn’t even speak.
He meant to turn her over, to look her in the eyes, maybe kiss her as they came, but that would have to happen later because Rebecca stole a lot more than his composure. He came as if he’d never done it before, as if he’d do anything to be with her again.
7
THE ALARM WENT OFF AT the unholy hour of five, purposefully shrill. Rebecca threw her arm over to stop the beeping, but there was no way Jake could have slept through that. No one in a three-mile radius could have.
“That was…” Jake didn’t finish the sentence.
“It’s the only thing that gets me up. I just sleep through music or anything that doesn’t make me want to rip out my ears.”
“Next time, we’re doing this on a weekend you don’t have to work.”
She turned over, kicking the duvet into something less restricting. They’d certainly been energetic last night. Despite her tiredness. At least they’d gotten five hours of sleep. “Next time?”
He turned to her, and while the draw was there, as urgent as it had been every time she got a look at him, they both played by morning-breath rules. “I keep doing that, don’t I?”
She nodded. “Evidently, I don’t mind.”
“Excellent.”
“I’m going to take a lot longer than you in the bathroom,” she said. “Feel free to shower. There’s a fresh toothbrush in the drawer under the rolled-up towels.”
“I was kind of hoping for an in-home demo.”
She brushed the back of her fingers across his cheekbone. “That would be a terribly risky thing to do.”
“We’re modern-day warriors,” he said. “I have every faith.”
Her laughter made her cover her mouth and start the day off better than she could have hoped. “Not when it comes to resisting you.”
He hummed happily and planted his forehead against her chest above her breasts. His hand started petting her, long slow strokes that made what she had to do next very difficult.
“You have to get out of my bed.”
“Harsh,” he said, his sleep-roughened voice muffled.
“Vigilance is my only hope.”
He sniffed. Moved himself back to the safe side of the bed. “Fine. I’ll get out of your bed. I’ll use your new toothbrush. But just know that I plan to make you a great omelet for when you’ve finished getting ready.”
She laughed again. “Is that your idea of a threat?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty weak. But it’s all I’ve got. Too damn early in the morning.” He threw back the covers and stood, his body still gorgeous, but she could see that some parts moved quicker than others. How much did those wounds hurt him every single day? She wished there was more to be done.
His cock certainly hadn’t been affected. He was half-hard, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to get him to attention. But work wasn’t going anywhere. The thought of all she had to do today made her moan.
He walked to the end of the bed and collected his clothes from the settee. “Anything you don’t like in an omelet?”
She shook her head. “Everything in my fridge is fair game. Whatever you make will be wonderful. Oh, and the coffee should be ready in about five minutes.”
He grinned and that quiver came back to her tummy. As she watched his butt while he walked to the bathroom, she wondered if she was being a complete idiot about all this. Letting him make her breakfast. Implying there’d be a next time. She was always careful about making friends too quickly, letting herself get too close. But kicking him out of her bed was hard enough. She just wasn’t ready to kick him out of her life.
JAKE TOOK THE SUBWAY BACK to Brooklyn. It wasn’t that crowded early on a Saturday morning so he was able to stretch out his leg. Of course, he did what he always did: scoped out the exits, every passenger who was in his car. Looked for signs of inebriation, of dilated pupils, of anything hinky. Then a sweep of the clothes, the hoodies in particular, the jeans. Possible weapon or cell phone? A loner paying too much attention to another passenger? It wasn’t something he planned, it was the way he was. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the badge, his brain had wired itself to the job. He never sat with his back to a wall, he always knew where the exits were, he was conscious of body language and facial ticks. A lot of good it did him now. Not only was he stuck with permanent injuries, he could also look forward to a lifetime of paranoia.
He was gonna have to get a little more serious about therapy if he wanted to keep up with Rebecca. And not just physical therapy.
He shook his head at his foolishness. Truth was, he was playing with fire. Walking into that building last night had shown him everything he needed to know about him and Rebecca. Yeah, it was all fun and games and getting naked, but they’d also done a lot of other stuff. Stuff that didn’t come with the normal one-night-stand package. Talked, for one thing. Talked a lot. Laughed. He’d cooked for her. She’d…opened wine.
He stared at the dark tunnel outside the subway window, everything speeding by. He would go home today, keep working on the downstairs bathroom. Listen to a ton of bad cop jokes. Watch his old man struggle to hold his fork, his mug, a domino. And parts of his body would burn angry at how he’d moved and strained and pushed too hard. But the other parts, the center of him, was glad he’d wrecked himself with Rebecca Thorpe, even if it never occurred to her that he might feel uncomfortable in a bed that cost more than he’d make in a year. Past tense. Made in a year.
Now, shit, disability. There was the house, eventually, but not for a long time, please God. And he had some savings. But he couldn’t take her out to the type of places she was used to. Meals at some of those joints ran to the thousands. He could barely imagine what food could be worth that. Even with wine.
She was used to dealing in billions, he was looking for bargains at Greschlers’ Hardware. He understood the part where they were naked, the sweaty part. He was having trouble with the talking. With liking her the way he did.
He rocked to the side at the curve, then settled. Being an undercover cop, being in with people who’d shoot him if he so much as looked at them funny, he’d learned to read people. It was survival, and it didn’t go away once he was off the job. Rebecca liked him. She was comfortable with him, and she wanted him to like her back.
The women he’d been involved with, they were all people whose lives he understood. If they weren’t from his neighborhood, they were from one just like it. Pizza from the corner was a fine meal, getting together for some green beer and corned beef on St. Paddy’s Day, watching Notre Dame at the corner bar. That’s what he knew. Not that he was embarrassed by his home or his life, not at all. But it had given him his perspective. His frame of reference.
Rebecca didn’t fit outside of the bedroom. No two ways about it. He didn’t understand her motives, and that could be a problem.
Motives were important.
Hell, he barely understood why he was pushing this thing, asking for more when it should have ended. He might have come from a long line of cops, but he wasn’t just some mook who didn’t understand what was what. Until her. Until Madison Avenue and fucking wild mushroom ragout, for Christ’s sake. What were they trying to prove? Was he her good deed for the year? Her attempt to get to know the little people? Was she his last-ditch attempt to prove he was still all man and not just an unemployed cripple?
The train slowed, and he looked up, saw he had four stops to go. But he watched the doors as they opened, scanned the small groups of people as they entered, chose seats. A couple of gangbangers sat front and center, so Jake would keep his wits about him, but he didn’t expect anything to happen. Except a train ride back to his real life.
He’d think about her, no question there. And he’d see her again, if he could figure out how to meet on neutral territory. Not his place, because jeez, the old man? Pete? Liam? They’d trip all over themselves trying to impress her. But he didn’t feel right about going back to her place. Wouldn’t, until he figured some things out. Like why he was already counting the minutes until he could be with her again.
REBECCA CLICKED THE TEXT function on her cell phone, clicked again on Bree’s name and typed:
Donate my body to science
Not five seconds later, Bree responded:
Don’t tell me you’re still wrking
I will never not be wrking Bree. NEVER!
It’ll get better. Tell me re BLUE EYES. Was 2nd as good as 1st?
He made me salad. Omelet this am. Yum. In every sense of the word.
Rebecca leaned back in her chair as she eyed the report spread out on her desk. She’d paused the demo that was currently on her screen and tried to get through the first page of the report three times, but she kept losing the thread. Thank God, the beep that told her Bree had texted her back saved her.
OMG. I can’t stand it. U HAVE to invite him!