Gotcha!

by Christie Craig

  He moved his kisses to her neck and started working on her shirt buttons. One popped open, and he kissed his way down the exposed skin. Another popped, and he visually feasted. Her breasts were only slightly hidden by the loosened bra.

  The need to see all of her had him reaching up to pull down her bra. He’d seen her naked during the towel tug-of-war, but seeing her now was different. Better. This was no accident. This was them sharing their bodies, pleasuring each other. Becoming lovers.

  “Perfect,” he whispered and leaned in to taste her. He licked her nipple, and she rocked in his lap, pushing her sex against him.

  Her last few shirt buttons came undone. While savoring one nipple and then the other, he removed her shirt and bra, and the two pieces of clothing fluttered to the beige carpet. Reclaiming her lips, he settled her back on the sofa. His shirt joined her bra and blouse, and he stretched out beside her. Her eyes stayed closed while he took in her dark-brown hair spread across the sofa’s tan leather.

  Reaching to the coffee table, he dipped his finger into the melting strawberry ice cream to trace it over one nipple. Her eyes popped open, and she arched up and moaned.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  A low, shuddering Yes escaped her lips.

  Coldness tightened her nipple, and unable to resist, he lowered his mouth and laved it with his tongue. She rubbed her pelvis against his thigh. It was a sure sign that she was his—practically an invitation for complete ravishment.

  He slid his hand down to unsnap her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. His own zipper bulged. He touched the edge of her silk panties. As he slipped one finger under the elastic band, his dick pulsed with the need to find its way inside her, to feel her slick wetness sucking him deeper. He touched the triangle of hair, surprised by its silky texture.

  “Soft,” he mumbled. His finger slipped lower. “And wet.”

  “Stop! I…we…can’t.”

  She caught his hand. He caught his breath.

  “We can’t.”

  He heard her words, but they didn’t make sense. “We can.”

  “No.” She jerked his hand from her jeans and scrambled out from under him. She sat up.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she answered.

  His balls were tight as rocks, his dick so hard he thought it might snap in two. He reached down to reposition himself and managed to sit up. He looked at her, topless, her jeans unsnapped, unzipped, her hair mussed. As impossible as it seemed, he felt himself harden even more. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he concentrated on breathing.

  In.

  Out.

  And when looking at her became too much, he stared at the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have stopped when…”

  The sofa shifted as she stood up. After counting to three, Jake dropped his head forward and watched her slipping her arms into her blouse.

  “Why stop when you want it as much as I do?” He waited for the answer, afraid of what he’d hear. He could still remember asking what the ex had done. She hadn’t answered. Did she still love the bastard?

  Damn, he didn’t want to hear that. He wanted her in his life, but he wouldn’t play second fiddle to any man. Hell, no! He’d done that with Lisa. God only knew how long she and his brother had been carrying on behind his back.

  Macy’s fingers shook as she buttoned her shirt over her bare breasts. He spotted her bra still on the floor. She sat back down beside him.

  He swallowed. “Is this about your ex?”

  Her eyes widened. “No! It’s…” She pulled her hair back. “It’s Aunt Flo.”

  Inhaling, he studied her. “Your aunt?”

  “You know.” She waved her hand. “Aunt Flo.”

  Frustrated, he pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t have a friggin’ clue how or why your aunt could stop us from making love.”

  A grin spread across her lips. “No. ‘Aunt Flo’ is another way of saying my period. Remember the trip we took to the store?”

  It took a second for her meaning to sink in. “Oh!” With his dick like petrified wood, it was amazing he could think at all. “That’s it? Just that?”

  “Yeah.” She still wore that damn beautiful smile.

  He grinned. “That’s the only reason you stopped?”

  “Yeeahhh.”

  It wasn’t a hell, yeah, but he’d take it. He laughed. “So when does your aunt leave?”

  She put a hand against his shoulder. “She’ll have overstayed her welcome by Tuesday.”

  Her palm felt warm against him. Warm and delicious. He wanted that warmth other places. “That long?” More blood rushed to his groin.

  “More or less. She keeps her own schedule.”

  His gaze caught on the open V of her shirt. He could still taste her breasts laced with strawberry ice cream. To hell with her aunt. “And is it a written rule that when she’s here, you can’t—?”

  “Written in stone.” She snagged her bowl of half-melted ice cream from the coffee table. “Just eat some chocolate.” She spooned a bite into her mouth then brought another spoonful to his lips. “It’s supposed to be better than sex.”

  He took it and swallowed, and the sweetness slid down his throat. “You obviously haven’t had sex with me.”

  She took the spoon back and licked it slowly. “So, you’re that good, huh?”

  Images of her mouth on something else flashed through his mind. He gulped. “Yup.”

  “As good as really good chocolate?” Her tongue continued to move over the spoon.

  “Better.” He snatched the spoon and got more ice cream.

  Her eyes twinkled. “You talk big, but—”

  “Mr. Dudley isn’t all talk.” He used the spoon to point to his jeans.

  Her gaze lowered to his bulging crotch, then flew back up. “You are so crass,” she complained. But he thought she was laughing.

  “No, I’m honest.” He leaned in and kissed her, then deepened the kiss. When he came up for air, his hard-on was even more painful. He stood. “And since your Aunt Flo rule stands, I’m taking—” An idea suddenly hit. “Want to join me? This will relieve at least some of our tension.”

  Billy stepped up on the porch. “You sure no one is here?” he asked.

  “I’m sure. I take care of it for her.” Ellie opened the front door to the beach house. “Mrs. Kelly’s only daughter lives in Ohio, and Mrs. Kelly doesn’t want to sell the place yet. I should have remembered. We could have come straight here.”

  Billy looked around. Everything in the house looked expensive: the furniture, the knickknacks, even the light fixtures. “Does your brother know about this place?”

  “No.” She dropped the keys in her purse. “He’s not good about things like wiping his feet or being careful with dishes.”

  Billy looked down to make sure he hadn’t tracked dirt inside. His shoes were clean. The carpet was the thick, woven kind that sprang back into shape after each step.

  “Come here,” Ellie said, and led him into the living room. There she opened the curtains and unlatched the windows. The sounds of the ocean and the smell of salt water filtered inside. They watched the ocean, and Ellie laid her head on his shoulder. “Pretty isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Billy’s chest ached. It ached because even though he’d let Ellie believe he was going to stay here with her, he wasn’t. It ached because he felt out of place standing in a beautiful house. It ached because the ocean was so beautiful, and soon—after he tried to take out Tanks—he might never see the ocean again. It ached because Ellie’s brother could get caught up in what was going down in all this. Ellie loved her brother. She would never forgive him.

  “Make love to me here,” Ellie begged. “With the ocean and the moon.”

  She pulled her shirt over her head and removed her bra. Then she shimmied out her jean shorts and red panties and stood in front of him. The moonlight touched her milky nakedness and he couldn’t look away.
He didn’t want to look away. He wanted to capture this image and burn it into his mind.

  Her breasts were Playboy beautiful. Her pink nipples reminded him of raspberries. He reached up and touched one, watched it pebble. A soft purring came from her throat and she unsnapped his jeans and wrapped her hand around his dick. Billy knew he should tell her no and leave, but he wanted one more time.

  One more time to taste her breasts and her sex, to feel the soft skin pulsing against his lips as he brought her to climax with his tongue.

  One more time to feel himself inside her, to pump his hips hard and fast as she wrapped her legs around him and begged him to keep going.

  Just one more time.

  While Jake showered, Macy made fast work of finding a set of sheets for the sofa. She’d turned down his offer of relieving their tension. Oh, she’d been tempted. But she’d been scared, too. Today her emotions were all over the place. No doubt, come Tuesday when Aunt Flo had departed, she knew she’d been singing a new tune. But maybe by then he’d have asked her to go to his grandfather’s party. Maybe by then she would have stopped doubting and really started believing in happy endings.

  Footsteps thumped down the hall. Jake stopped and stood there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His hair shone a dewy black and looked finger combed. A few drops of shower water clung to his chest. She watched one glistening stream spill down his chest and disappear into his belly button.

  “What are you doing?” His words drew her gaze to his face.

  “Fixing my bed.” She looked away and focused on what she was doing.

  “Why? We slept together last night.”

  She gave the sheet one more tuck. “Last night you had doctor’s orders.” She glanced at him. Another drop of water wiggled its way to the elastic of his boxers.

  He ran a hand over his chest. “There’s no reason—”

  “After what almost happened, I think it would be best.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “You really don’t think I’d try to persuade you to do something you didn’t want, do you?”

  “No,” she answered honestly. “But I might.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “Then I insist you sleep with me.”

  As he stepped closer, she put her hand on his chest. A chill from his skin met her palm. He really had taken a cold shower.

  “Please, Jake.”

  He held her waist. “Nothing will happen, I promise. I’ll fight you off if you attack me.”

  “Yeah, but if I sleep in here, I know nothing will happen.”

  “Macy, this is silly. The only reason we aren’t making love in that bed or on that couch right now is because you’re on your…woman thingy.”

  “Woman thingy?” She grinned.

  He answered her smile with his own. “Hey, if this”—he pointed downward—“is now Mr. Dudley, I can call your time of the month a woman thingy.”

  Macy laughed. “I guess that’s fair. But I’m sleeping right here.”

  He took her hand and gave a tug. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “No.” She dug her heels into the carpet.

  When his gaze met her determined glare, he released her and ran both hands through his hair. “God, you are one stubborn woman, aren’t you?”

  “No.” She paused. “Okay. I am stubborn. But you’re just as stubborn. And since we’re already arguing, I should tell you something else you’re not going to like.”

  “More good news?” His shoulders took a new set, and his eyebrows pinched closer together. Miffed Jake was back.

  “I’m going to work tomorrow night.”

  She watched his body stiffen with anger, but oddly, it didn’t make her afraid. Not like she’d been when her father showed signs of temper. Even Tom’s fits of anger had given her an uneasy, queasy feeling. But not with Jake. She could stand up to him. Toe to toe. Nose to nose. She liked that.

  “Like hell you are,” he growled.

  “They have a man watching me at all times. Why shouldn’t I go to work?”

  “They had man on you today, and look what happened!”

  She shook her head. “I have to work. I have bills to pay. Heck, I owe you almost a hundred dollars.”

  “What? Since when do you owe me money?”

  “I saw the receipt from Home Depot in your car.”

  “The same time you were snooping through my files, I guess?”

  “Stay on topic,” she snapped. “The point is, I know how much you spent. Between the doorknobs and paint, it was—”

  “Please! When have I said you owe me that money?”

  “You think I’m just going to let you pay for it?”

  “I bought it. I didn’t ask you if I could. It was a gift.”

  “Well, it’s not my birthday. And I can’t just let—”

  “Screw the money,” Jake hissed. “You think I’m going to let you go put your life at risk to pay me back?”

  She matched the stubborn tilt of his chin with her own. If she and Jake Baldwin were going to have a relationship, he needed to understand right off that she wasn’t a pushover. “It’s not just you. I need to pay my rent.”

  “I’ll pay it.” He stormed to a desk and pulled out a checkbook. “How much do you need?”

  “Well, darn, why don’t you just slap me on the ass, hand over your bank account, and I’ll call you sugar daddy?” And with a sigh, she turned her back on him and anything else he could say.

  Jake lay on his bed staring at the ceiling and fuming for over an hour. Out of nowhere he remembered a sermon Harry had practiced on him once. The message was one of walking in a man’s shoes.

  Two new thoughts hit Jake: he still missed his brother and, damn it, if he put himself in Macy’s shoes…hell, he’d be furious at himself. Handouts were about as welcome to him as a case of food poisoning. He didn’t even understand why he’d acted like a jerk, but then that became clear, too. His protective tendency could be a bit overbearing. Yeah, he’d been a jerk.

  Not that she wasn’t being difficult.

  Hardheaded.

  Stubborn.

  Yet so damn loveable.

  Jake shot upright and walked into the living room, prepared to apologize, but also hoping to somehow make her see reason. But she was asleep, Elvis curled up at her feet. A wave of emotion rushed through him, and all he could do was stand and watch her breathe. The way she slept, her hands beneath her face, made her look so young, so innocent, so damn vulnerable.

  The memory of her talking about how her father had left on her twelfth birthday flickered through Jake’s mind, and he hated the man without ever knowing him. The thought of her ex having hurt Macy, of her brother taking advantage of her, turned his muscles rock hard. The idea of Tanks and then Chase Roberts laying a hand on her made his blood boil.

  He wanted to hold her so tight that nothing and no one could ever hurt her again. Which led to his problem. No way was he going to let her go to work.

  Right then, he accepted he could not do this alone. He needed help. And while asking for help wasn’t easy for him, ask he would. He knew just the person to call.

  It was hours before Billy slipped out from under Ellie’s soft body. They had made love twice and fallen asleep on the floor. He found his underwear, then his jeans, and dressed.

  “What are you doing?” she mumbled, her tone sleepy.

  He zipped up his pants. “I’ve got to find Tanks.”

  She rose up on her elbow. Sadness filled her eyes. “You’re not coming back, are you? This was good-bye, wasn’t it?”

  A knot formed in his throat. He couldn’t answer for fear he’d do something stupid like cry, so he finished dressing. But as he tucked the gun in the waistband of his pants, Ellie sat up. He forced himself to speak.

  “I’ll let you know where I leave the van.”

  “Leave it? What are you really planning on doing, Billy Moore?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Need some coffee, sleepyhead?”

  Macy opened
her eyes and stared into a smiling, freshly-shaven face. Steam rose from a cup and billowed deliciously under her nose.

  Pulling back so her morning breath wouldn’t knock him on his haunches, she sat up. The sofa dipped as he sat beside her.

  Once settled, he handed her the cup. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?”

  She finger-combed her hair, self-conscious. “And I suppose you are?”

  “Busted.” He picked up the TV remote on the coffee table. “Maybe Saturday cartoons will cheer you up while I get us cereal. It always worked on my brother. You like Lucky Charms?”

  She sipped the caramel-colored coffee doused with milk. “Yeah.” The brew tasted wonderful. “Thanks.” Then his statement about a brother sank in, and she cut her eyes to him. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “Yeah.” He leaned in for a kiss, but she covered her mouth.

  “I’ve got fuzzy monsters growing on my teeth.”

  “Then go slay the monsters. I don’t serve breakfast without a morning kiss.” He stood up, looking content and way too sexy in his faded jeans and white T-shirt.

  Her gaze shot back to his smile. She recalled last night when anger had made his eyes dark and his lips tight. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I am.” He tugged her upright and gave her a nudge and a pat on the rear. “Hurry.”

  After brushing her teeth, she sat next to him on the sofa and they ate. He didn’t mention their argument about her going to work, and neither did she. One bowl of cereal later, they cuddled together and watched Scooby-Doo. Or rather, she tried to watch, while Jake busied himself nibbling on her neck and that sensitive spot behind her ear. His lips and moist tongue created wonderful sensations that spread to all parts of her body, and Scooby lost all appeal.

  “You should stop that,” she whispered, and tried to think of a topic to change the mood. “How many sisters and brothers do you have?”