Buried Secrets_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  Jenna kissed him again, full on the mouth, and then leaned back. “Thanks.”

  Sam sucked in a lungful of air. “Now it’s my turn to say, wow.”

  Grabbing his hands, she backpedaled until her knees hit the sofa edge, and they tumbled onto the large cushions. Sam landed on top of her but made sure to catch himself before he squashed her. If she didn’t find his smell offensive, he’d go with it. Jenna’s breath came out ragged as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans.

  “Let me help you with that,” he offered. Only his fingers didn’t move, because reason intruded. Jenna deserved more respect.

  She blinked and shook her head. “I can’t wait.” Sam held himself above her as she wiggled under him. Jenna ripped off her jeans in ten seconds flat. She held them out with one hand while she pulled a condom from the side pocket with the other.

  “You came prepared?” He didn’t know what to think. No woman had ever brought a condom to bed, but her act ratcheted up his anticipation. Hormones blocked his resolve to keep them apart.

  “Damn straight I did. I didn’t need you using that as an excuse.”

  Jenna dropped her pants on the floor, whipped her t-shirt over her head and flung it toward the coffee table. She missed. He wanted to pick up her clothes, but he couldn’t take his attention off her bra. Plain white. No lace. No frill. He expected her to wear something red hot or lacy and black. And most definitely whimsical and impractical—like Jenna. But he liked her pure, simple choice.

  She sat up and unhooked the back. The bra went flying behind her, landing on the lampshade. He was tempted to retrieve it, but her perky breasts drew his attention.

  He touched her pointed nub with his finger. “Nice.”

  That was an understatement, but his mouth was too dry for a long conversation. Amazing, perfect mounds came closer to the truth.

  “Now it’s your turn to get naked.” She lowered her chin and looked up through her lashes.

  “You won’t get an argument from me.” Why did he say that? It was like some devil had put a spell on him. War raged inside. The good soldier told him to stop. The erect one forced him to proceed. Sam jumped up from the sofa and held out his hands to help her up, and her smile disappeared. She must not have understood. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

  “Bedroom? That’s so conventional.” She raised her arms and wiggled her fingers, luring him to get back to the sofa.

  Sam jumped out of his pants and shirt, and then pulled off his boxers. Jenna whistled and he tried not to smile. He picked up his jeans from the floor to fold them, when her hand shot out and grabbed him.

  “What are you doing? I can’t wait.”

  “Give me sec.”

  She jutted out her breasts and chin. “Are you kidding me? You’ve got a raging hard-on and a naked woman ready to do the nasty with you, and you have to fold your clothes?”

  “Chill. Putting things away makes cleaning up later much easier.”

  She sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Well, as long as you’re into being the neat freak, we might as well take a shower. I don’t want you getting halfway there and have you decide I smell too bad.”

  Her slightly nasty tone hurt, but she’d read him dead on. “Bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the right.”

  “You’re joining me? Right?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be in there in a minute.”

  She scrunched up her face. “After you fold your clothes I suppose?”

  “You got it.”

  “Whatever.”

  Buck naked, she wiggled her way out of the living room. Only when he heard the water run, did he breath a sigh of relief. Jenna was right. Something was wrong with him. He should have taken everything she offered, but something stopped him. Fear, maybe, of being too close again and then ruining it.

  Perhaps he should forget everything and hop in the shower with her, but who knows what kind of ideas she’d come up with. He imagined them writhing on the shower floor with Jenna on top. Or perhaps he’d press her against the wall, hot water streaming over them, and drive his cock into her. His dick twitched. No, he didn’t think he was ready for the wild side—yet.

  Ten minutes later she came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body, hair all wet and pretty. His erection sprung to life again.

  “Next,” she announced.

  At least she didn’t criticize him for not joining her. In fact, she didn’t appear phased by his nonappearance. The shower stall was only four feet by three feet, which would have made a dual shower a tight fit—a very tight fit.

  Sam hurried his washing so Jenna wouldn’t have to wait too long. The logical half expected her to leave when he came out of the shower, but the emotional side prayed she’d stay. Once finished, he threw on clean clothes and rushed out to the living room. He smiled. There she was, sitting pretty on the sofa, munching on a piece of left over chocolate cake he’d brought home from Gina’s birthday party two days ago. A glass of wine sat on the coffee table without a coaster and next to her was her crumpled t-shirt and bra she’d picked up. One point for Jenna.

  10

  Wait a minute. Sam was dressed? In jeans and a buttoned-down shirt? Did he really think putting on more clothes would keep her out of his bed? No way. Once Jenna had seen those ripped abs, she was hooked—on him. She wouldn’t be surprised to learn he had a calendar that listed which exercises to do and at what time of day in order to keep him in such good shape.

  Looks weren’t the only thing that attracted her to him. He’d treated the guard with kindness and had talked with her like she was a person and not some stupid little girl. His straight-arrow attitude made her want to throw something at him at times, but his strong beliefs appealed to her.

  “You didn’t leave,” he said, with a hint of surprise.

  “Were you hoping I would?” If he thought that, he didn’t know her very well. Then again, how could he know her well? She was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  He had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “No, not at all. It’s just that—”

  Jenna held up both hands. “You don’t need to explain. You’re not used to women who are so forward, am I right? I get that all the time.” Not true, but she understood him, maybe better than he did.

  “It’s not that.” Sam slipped down next to her on the sofa. Heat radiated off him from his shower, and he smelled like fabric softener.

  Jenna curled her feet under her butt and faced him. The towel slipped a little lower on her breasts, but she didn’t adjust the material. She saw no use hiding what he’d already seen. “I give, tell me why you thought I’d leave.”

  His jaw clenched for a moment, and then he seemed to relax. “Well. You’re...so uninhibited, and I’m... not. You’re also not...intense like I am.”

  Ohmigod. She was both uptight and intense, sides she’d kept hidden. “I guess you don’t know me very well.” Now there was an understatement of the year.

  “It’s not you. I saw your eyes when I neatened up. You’re into spontaneity. I work so much, I wouldn’t appeal to you.”

  She nearly choked. “Do I act like you don’t appeal to me? I’m not asking for a wedding ring, you know. Ever hear of friends with benefits?” The lie churned inside her. She wanted commitment, a family, and someone to love her, but she’d never say those words out loud. To anyone. Disappointment would only follow.

  He opened his mouth, and then smiled. “You win.” Sam stood, slipped his hands under her legs and carried her to his bedroom. Despite the traditional location, she’d go with the flow. E-ticket ride, here we come.

  The overhead light blazed bright. The bed was made, and no clothes were on the floor. The dresser was neat and the desk immaculate. Go Sam. In those respects, he was very unlike her.

  Sam carefully placed her on the comforter as if she were some delicate flower. He stepped back and began to unbutton his shirt.

  Jenna made a T with her hands. “Time out.”

  H
is brows furrowed. “What?”

  “Okay. It seems to me like you have no clue what to do with me. Don’t you know it’s my job to undress you?”

  “Is that so?” He cocked a brow. “It just so happens, I do have a clue. A very big clue.” He peeled off his shirt and hung it up in the closet. His broad shoulders and muscular body made her pant. Sam was a feast for sore eyes.

  “I’m dying here. Let the clothes go for once, okay? All your stall tactics make me feel like you don’t want to make love to me.”

  Sam stared at her as though she were some alien. “That’s not true. Look at this.” He pointed to his erect cock.

  “I can see that, but...” She waved a hand. “Never mind! Come here.”

  Sam shrugged, and then turned off the lights.

  “No.” Aargh. “Keep the lights on. I like to look at you.” At this rate, they’d never get to bed.

  Sam obeyed. He stepped out of his jeans but left on his boxers. She wasn’t worried. They’d be easy enough to remove.

  He pulled back the comforter on his side and slipped in. “Slide under the covers with me.”

  Finally.

  Sam scooted to the opposite side of the bed and watched as Jenna eased in next to him. God only knows how much he wanted her, but she deserved to have more than a one-night stand, which this was stacking up to be.

  She snuggled next to him, grabbed his erection, and nuzzled his neck. He sucked in a breath and stilled her hand. “Jenna, I don’t think this is a good idea.” The shower had given him time to think through the possible repercussions of their act.

  “Oh...my...God. Are you a virgin or something?” Or something? What would that be? He could tell her tone was pure bravado. He’d hurt her feelings—bad. Damn it.

  He wanted to right his wrong. “No. I’m widowed as matter of fact. For the record, I do want to sleep with you but making love should be special between two people, not some one time occurrence.”

  She shook her head as if to say he was too full of shit. “This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. I’m willing to have a repeat performance, you know.” She ran her palm down his chest and he held in a groan.

  He’d seen too many men hurt his mom after his father died. He wouldn’t do that to Jenna. “Come here.”

  He gathered her in his arms and held her tight. Her soft skin molded against his body and her hair smelled like lemons. She was so sweet and so special. Jenna deserved to be cherished, just not by him—a workaholic.

  She rocked out of his arms. “I think I should be going.”

  The alarm clock on the side table glowed bright. “It’s late. Stay the night. I don’t want you driving home in the dark.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I’m a big girl, and remember I just drove two hours in the dark.”

  Sam shoved backwards to rest his back against the headboard and gathered her to his chest before she had a chance to escape. “Please stay. I think it would be nice to have you sleep next to me.”

  When she looked up at him, he could read the debate in her eyes. “Really?” A small smile caught her lips.

  “Really.” He slipped out of bed to flick off the light knowing he wouldn’t sleep tonight with Jenna snuggled up against him, but he figured the sacrifice would be worthwhile when he woke up to her all warm and cuddled against him in the morning.

  He must have dozed off, for when he opened his eyes, his arm had fallen asleep. Jenna was lying on top of him, one leg slung over his body. Hormones kicked into high gear once he realized he was naked with a beautiful woman on top of him. How had she taken off his briefs without him knowing?

  He tried to slip his arm out from under her when a flash of light outside his bedroom window caught his attention. He blinked, straining to figure out what would have created the odd vision.

  Then he smelled it.

  Smoke.

  Shit. Something was on fire.

  He shook her and jumped out of bed. “Jenna. Wake up.”

  “Hmm.”

  He flicked on the overhead light, but she remained cocooned in the blankets, looking snug. “Jenna. Fire!” he shouted.

  She rolled over and opened an eye. “Why are you up?”

  “The house is on fire. We have to get out of here.” Sam wasn’t sure the extent of the crises, but he wanted to check it out clothed. He rushed into the closet and tossed out a white, buttoned down shirt to Jenna. “Put this on.”

  The horror must have sunk in, for she sat up and looked outside. “Sam!”

  In a flash, she flew out of the bed and pulled on her jeans and his shirt. Sam tossed on pants and a pullover, and then shoved his feet into topsiders.

  The moment Jenna was decent and had put on her sneakers, ties still undone, he grabbed her hand. “We need to go out the front.”

  The heat blasted them the moment they exited the hallway and stepped into the living room. Sam checked each window. Flames licked every pane.

  “Fuck.” It was worse than he’d imagined. He spun Jenna toward him. “Call 9-1-1 and I’ll find something wet to cover us.” Without protection, they were dead.

  Jenna sprinted to the sofa where she’d placed her purse on the floor. Relieved she’d followed his instruction without arguing, he ran to the hall closet and grabbed two beach towels. Every second he spent preparing, the harder it would be to get out of the burning house, but if he didn’t, they’d never fight their way out.

  “Sam, hurry!”

  He ran the shower over the towels for no more than ten seconds, and then raced out to the living room. He surveyed his options. The bedroom window was out of the question. The fire raged outside.

  Jenna tugged his arm. “Out back,” she yelled. He tossed her the wet towel, and she held it over her head as she went toward the sliding glass door.

  “Wait. This looks pretty bad. Let me check the front first.” Sounds similar to gunfire punctuated the night. He sprinted to the front door and ripped it open, the handle already hot to the touch. Thick smoke and flames jumped out at him. He slammed the door, and his heart nearly exploded. Heat seared his lungs, and Sam coughed. His lungs burned and his field of vision dimmed. “Go out the back,” he yelled.

  Halfway past the living room sofa, a wall of glass exploded from the heat. Shit, Jenna was near the sliding glass door.

  “Jenna?” The smoke grew so thick he couldn’t see her or anything. He could only hope she’d made it outside already. Blood pounded in his ears, as spikes of fear nearly paralyzed him. “Jenna. Where are you?”

  No response.

  With the wet towel over his head, he rose to his hands and knees for more air, but it didn’t help. His lungs screamed in protest from the lack of oxygen. He crawled around the sofa to where Jenna might be. He couldn’t breathe, forcing his heart to race. Sam failed to clear his chest. His brain fogged.

  Where was she?

  Two feet in front of the door, he found her on the ground bleeding. “Jenna?” Heat burned his skin. If he didn’t get them out of the house now, they’d both die. He shook her. “Can you hear me?”

  Sam wrapped her up in the beach towel and stood on wobbly legs. Blood dripped down his elbows and hands from the exploding glass. The fire had burned through the front door and was licking its way toward them. His only hope was to go through the broken sliding door, through the wall of flames.

  He held Jenna tightly against his chest, took a breath, and plowed through the fire, forcing his feet to move. His breath nearly gone, his muscles contracted from the heat. Then. Air.

  He broke through the flames with his precious bundle clasped against his heaving body. Cleansing tears leaked out of his eyes. He blinked, but all he saw was black smoke in front of them. Intermittent flames snaked through the mist. He dodged to the right, praying he wouldn’t run into the patio furniture and drop her.

  Mentally picturing what was in his back yard, he angled to the left to avoid the hedge. Heat scorched his back, and his lungs demanded more air. In the distance sirens blared.
He held Jenna tighter. He couldn’t lose her. “Hang on, Jenna.”

  Sam tripped over something protruding from the ground. It was the sprinkler system. Damn. He stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance but then slammed into his back fence. Trapped. He had to get out of the yard. Where was the damned gate?

  The stench of burnt flesh made him gag. Was it his flesh—or Jenna’s?

  She wriggled in his arms. Thank God Jenna was alive. “Hold on. Help’s on the way.”

  He moved along the fence, looking for the opening, but he didn’t dare put her down. From the blood on the towel, he knew he had to hurry if he wanted to save her.

  There. The gate. Rolling Jenna closer to him, Sam reached out from underneath her and touched the latch to lift it. The hot metal pierced his skin causing him to drop the lever. “Damn.”

  Using the edge of Jenna’s towel, he covered his hand and tried again to escape from the fenced in yard. The gate swung open a moment later, and he sprinted with Jenna as far as his legs would take him, gulping in large mouthfuls of semi-clean air.

  Once out of immediate danger, he dropped to his knees and placed Jenna on the ground. The raging fire crackled and popped close behind him. His ragged breath scared him. The streetlights from the road behind his house illuminated her face. Small cuts littered her cheeks and neck. Poor Jenna.

  “Sir?”

  Sam looked up. A paramedic, med kit in hand, stood over him. “You have to take care of her,” Sam pleaded.

  “Yes, sir. Is there anyone else in the house?”

  Oh, God. “Mrs. Delansky, a paraplegic, lives on the other side.” He couldn’t tell if the fire had spread to her half yet. “She never leaves the house.” Panic tore at him.

  A paramedic took Jenna’s vitals. Seeing she was in good hands, Sam headed toward the other side to help save his friend.

  Someone grabbed his arm. “We’ll take care of your neighbor.”

  Two more paramedics appeared at his side. One took hold of his shoulder, but he shook him off. “I have to help her.”

  “We’re already in.” The words sunk in. He was too late. Again. “Come with us, please.”