"You're a cop."
"Most cops are stable sociopaths."
"See? You're quite fine." She laughed and her position shifted a little.
"You're getting tired in that position a lot faster," I commented.
"How can you tell?"
"You're moving slightly. Want to stop for a bit? It's been a long while," I asked, setting the palette and brush down.
"Yeah. My hip is cramping." She rolled onto her back, stretching out her limbs. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her graze her fingertips over the most intimate part of herself.
"Let's get pizza for dinner," I offered, swallowing down my emotions.
Jillian shot me a satisfied grin.
Rumble
"Jess." Hot breath met my ear, pulling me from sleep. "Jess."
I gasped and fumbled for the table lamp beside my bed. In the dim light, Jillian perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at me. "What's the matter?" I asked groggily, sitting up and brushing the hair from my face.
"It's snowing and windy. It keeps knocking the power out," she whispered. Even in the soft light, worry tainted her expression.
"The complex has a generator. It'll kick on." Thunder cracked and the light flickered out.
"It's a blizzard."
"And some thundersnow. We get them from time to time when they come from the coast," I said, lifting the blanket for her to climb under. She accepted the invitation without hesitation and scooted close to me. "You don't like snow?"
"I don't like dark," she said as I tucked the blanket around her. "You must think I'm stupid."
"I don't think that, Jilly." I yawned and felt something tug around my neck.
"What's this?" she asked. "Is it attached to you?"
"It's a necklace. One of Gray's tags," I said, laughing a little bit at the strange question. I could feel her running her fingers over it before setting it back on my chest.
"Oh. It was on the pillow," she said. I couldn't see her in the darkness, but I felt her move beside me, bouncing the bed a little. A moment later, a light caress met my stomach, before she rested her hand an inch below my navel. I didn't move or breathe. Soft puffs of breath met my cheek as she lay beside me. She stroked the skin just beneath the waist of my shorts. After awhile, my body unlocked, and I rested my hand on top of hers. That seemed to satisfy her and, in time, she dozed off. Eventually, after I got used to the idea of someone else in my bed, sleep dragged me under.
When I opened my eyes again, Jillian sat on the edge of the bed, facing the doorway.
"What's going on?"
"I hear a noise."
"What?" I sat up quickly, tossing off the blankets. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"I couldn't tell the difference between the banging and the wind." The bedside lamp flickered along with the sound of whipping wind.
"Stay here," I said, exiting the bed and drawing my old service weapon from the nightstand.
"Shit," Jillian said, hugging a pillow to her chest.
"I mean it. Stay here," I warned and stalked out of the bedroom, gun drawn.
Flickering lights sent rounded, humanoid shadows all over the living room. I checked the back door first, the latch and lock remained. The front door sat secured as well. My heart thundered in a way it hadn't since the force. I searched every room, every closet to no avail. The snow clouded my vision as I opened the back door, searching the back patio and garage. Nothing. I returned to Jillian, who continued to hug a pillow on the bed. I stroked her hair as I returned the gun to its home in the nightstand, checking to make sure the safety remained on. The power returned a moment later.
"Everything's locked up. It might've been the tree outside hitting the wires," I said, kneeling on the bed.
"You have a gun," she said, turning to face me.
"I have a few guns," I reminded her. She extended her hands to me and I took them. The fear in her eyes subsided in time. "I told you I'd keep you safe, didn't I? A wee little woman like me has to have some sort of help. Guns are like a substitute penis."
"That's the worst metaphor ever." She laughed and swatted my leg. "Sexist."
"You've revealed my deepest darkest secret. I'm a woman hater." I gasped mockingly, covering my mouth. Jillian laughed hard and tackled me back onto the bed. Her hair tickled my face as she bopped me with a pillow.
"I'll get revenge on you in the name of all female kind," she cried out.
I cracked up and blocked her blows from hitting my face. She tickled me and I squealed, arching against her and leaving me vulnerable to attack. Her final blow thrust my hair from my face and I pretended to pass out, though I couldn't contain my laughter long enough to be convincing.
"I win." She grinned, tossing the pillow aside and gripped my wrists instead, pinning me to the bed.
"Fine, fine. You win. Victory for women everywhere."
"Or just for me." She smiled and leaned down close enough for her hair to form a canopy around our faces.
"Victory for you then." I laughed softly, wiggling beneath her.
"Just for me," she said and released me at the same time that she closed the distance between us. Her soft lips pressed delicately against mine. Shock kept me frozen as my mouth desperately fought to remember how to respond. I didn't know what I was doing. Did she? Clearly she did. She leaned back, ending our kiss to look down at me. My body refused to relax and I grew keenly aware of the danger that my fear may pose. Rejection was the last thing I wanted her to feel. I broke free of my stupor to reach up and caress her cheek.
Without a word, she slid into bed beside me, pulling the blankets over us. She turned on her side, gripping my hand and rolling me with her so that I hugged her from behind. I'm not sure if either of us slept that night, but I know for certain, neither of us dared to break the embrace.
***
I slipped away in the early hours of the morning to check around the house for the source of whatever Jillian heard the night before. Branches littered the road and frozen yards around the complex. The power remained on and the fridge hadn't spoiled. I decided on a quick shower before returning to the studio to work on the unfinished painting and to clear my head.
She kissed me, I thought as I added shadows and depth to the wrinkles in the linens around her naked form. Was it simply out of fear from the blizzard? Did she need comfort? Or was it something else entirely? I didn't hate it. I didn't hate it at all. While she slept, my mind raced in search of explanations.
"You look tired," Jillian's voice rang out behind me as she entered the studio. This time wrapped in a towel instead of a robe.
"What? Oh. I'm okay." I shook my head and set the paintbrush down. "I checked outside this morning. Branches are down all over the place."
"That's probably what I heard." She stood beside me, looking over my shoulder at the nearly complete painting. "My hair is still wet, sorry."
"It's fine, there's not much left at this point." I had a difficult time looking at her, but my heart thundered the same way it had last night when I drew my gun.
"Okay then," she said, dropping her towel beside the bed and returning to her pose of the previous day.
Yesterday, she was a model with a beautiful body, whose images would "sell" according to Rhoda. Today, she was something different. Something I wanted to touch more than anything. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned back to the painting. I must've spent ten minutes on the same brush stroke.
"Come here."
"S-sorry?" I glanced at her.
"Come here a minute," she said, remaining in her pose.
I slid from the stool, setting the palette and brush aside. As I approached the bed, my pulse changed from thundering to deafening when I knelt beside her.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing at all." She lifted my paint-smeared hand and smudged a blue streak down my arm.
"What are you doing to me?" I smiled, using my shirt to wipe it off.
"Turning you blue." Her laugh set alight piercing b
lue eyes and deepened the ruby hue of her lips.
"You're supposed to be posing all nice and still," I jested and attempted to get my hand back.
"You're supposed to be painting me," she said, releasing me. "So paint."
"I was until you interrupted me, bossy."
"Not over there." She shook her head. "Here." Jillian ran her fingertips over her hip as if they were the bristles of a brush, her eyes never leaving mine.
Was she testing me in some way? I couldn't be sure. She waited until I battled away my thoughts and eventually, with a trembling hand, reached out to mimic her movement along her hip. I stopped and awaited her reaction, trying desperately to keep my focus on her face. Jillian rolled onto her back, tugging me with her.
"Like I'm your canvas," she whispered.
I wanted to touch her. The urge surprised me, setting fire to something inside long deadened by the explosion of a convoy. She stroked the back of my arm, her fingers flicking along the remnants of the blue paint. I held my breath and placed my hand on her stomach; the largest and most neutral portion of her canvas.
She melted beneath me, her body relaxing into the plush down beneath us. I took my time pretending that my fingers were bristles, stroking around her navel. She squirmed when I tickled her side, biting her lip with a smile. With a gentle nudge, she moved my hand upward until I grazed the soft mounds of her breasts. Eventually, I drew my gaze from hers to watch the motion between us. Her body lifted slightly when I moved in a certain manner. Goose bumps coated her midsection. I avoided her nipples until she turned in a way that forced them beneath my hand.
Her head jerked back slightly and her belly twitched as I followed her lead. In time, her hand found its way to my leg, gripping my inner thigh. A single digit stroked along the inseam of my jeans. She was going to kill me. Drive me insane from thinking too much and feeling strange sensations pulse through my body. A few strokes later, she guided my hand downward toward her navel but she didn't stop there. Lower, until my hand dangled an inch above the place I avoided looking the most. When I froze, she reached up to caress my face.
"Are you sure?" she whispered, though I could hear the hope and want in her voice.
"Yeah," I said, leaning into her touch. I wanted this, of that much I could be sure.
At my affirmation, she grabbed me by the shirt, pulling me down to capture me in our second kiss. This time, my lips didn't seize up. They knew how to kiss and so did I.
Jillian unbuttoned my shirt as she guided our connection. Her hands stroked my breasts. My gasp ended our kiss. Untouched as my body was for so long, every sensation seemed magnified. She unbuttoned my jeans, tugging them down my hips. She didn't hesitate before slipping her hand down my panties, cupping me in a way that melted my core and set me to smoldering like an inferno threatening destruction. With her hips pressed upward against my palm, I mimicked her motion and let my fingers slide between her legs. Soaked, velvety folds welcomed my touch. Gnawing on her lip as a moan escaped her, she moved against me. My body took over, and I craved more. To taste, hold, and please her. Soft kisses lined her shoulder as I moved down her body. She rolled her hips against my hand. I breathed heavily against her. Foreign sensations radiated from my center, drumming pleasure in ripples through me. I lost myself to her touch, breaking against her hand like a wave hitting the shore. My breath heaved against her neck as she gripped my arm, her nails leaving crescent shaped welts. A rush of dampness met my fingers as her own pleasure erupted around me.
I dropped down on the bed beside her, both of us panting heavily. She turned on her side, burying her face in my hair as she wrapped her arms around me. I returned her embrace, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder. My mind quieted along with my body. Jillian's touch soothed a part of me long neglected. After a while, she rolled onto her back, keeping one arm around me. A lone tear trickled down her cheek when I looked up at her. I brushed it away and she met my gaze. She smiled, though behind that smile something lingered.
"What is it?" I whispered.
"Can we stay like this forever?" She closed her eyes as if fearing my response. I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip.
"I'd like that," I said as she kissed my finger. "Even after everything, I've never seen you this way."
"What way?" She opened her eyes, glancing from the ceiling back to me.
"Sad."
"Endings make me sad," she said, kissing my forehead.
"Are you sure it's not beginnings that make you sad?" I leaned up on my elbow to gaze down at her. She watched me, her eyes searched my face as her brows lifted. Something, I'm not sure what, washed over her like a warm blanket in a snowstorm.
It softened her expression and she smiled.
Practice
"Why aren't you a cop anymore?"
"Hmm?"
"Why'd you retire?" Jillian asked as we lay together in bed with her head on my shoulder. She traced a gentle path from my abdomen downward, stopping just above where the memory of her touch lingered.
"I um…" The flutter in my stomach had me tripping over my words. "I couldn't trust myself anymore."
"In what way?" She turned on her side to face me, continuing her delicate strokes.
"After Graydon died, I took some time off. When I went back, I couldn't focus. I hesitated during a standoff and my partner got shot. He's fine, but that's when I knew. My instability affected the safety of other people. So I left." The story coupled with her caress sent mixed signals through my body. Eventually, I gave in to the present.
"You've still got it in you. I saw it, the night of the blizzard. Did you like being a cop?" She kissed my neck, the heat of her caress hovered above the point of my desire.
"I did, yeah. Helping people outweighed the bad stuff." I bit my lip and she grinned. "You're torturing me."
"I know." A snicker laced her words. She tapped a single finger against my aching center. I sucked in my breath and she nipped my ear. "I'm enjoying it."
"Mean, just mean," I said, breathlessly.
"Your turn to ask me something." She flicked her tongue over my nipple and I fought the urge to bury my fingers in her hair.
"You're making it difficult to think." I relented, grabbing her hair and holding her to me. "How do you know how to do this?"
"Do what?" She leaned over me at the same time that she drew circles around my folds. I arched up to meet her, gripping the bed sheets beneath me. It took barely a few strokes before I lost myself to her again and she kissed me hard through a moan. She held me after, rubbing me gently then cupping me in a possessive gesture that had the deepest parts of me trembling. "Oh. You mean that?" Her sweet singsong words ended our kiss. I swatted her arm and she laughed as I hugged her.
"Yes, that. All of this." My breath escaped me in short puffs.
"I've had a little practice. But just a little bit," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"You're my only practice." I brushed my knuckles along the soft curve of her jaw. She leaned into it, kissing my hand.
"I'm glad." Jillian hugged me, burying her face against my neck as a soft sigh escaped her. Something changed in her then; her body relaxed as we breathed each other in. The sweet fragrance of her shampoo lingered like a spring rain. I rubbed her back, holding her to me a moment longer before rolling both of us over. She flopped back on the bed with a playful smile plastered on her lips. "What are you doing?"
"Practicing," I said, kissing her through a smile then moving my way down her body. As if she knew my true intentions, which I was pretty sure she did, her legs parted and she lifted herself to me. I placed delicate kisses along the tender flesh of her inner thigh. She stifled a moan by biting her bottom lip. "This okay?"
"Yes." She let out a breathy laugh, looking down at me, her eyes pleading for something I couldn't quite grasp. I placed a soft kiss on her stomach, a gesture of both affection and understanding. She nodded and gripped the pillow beside her head, her legs trembling before I even touched her.
&n
bsp; I kissed my way down until my lips grazed her silky, bare flesh, paying mind to every bit of her and not leaving one spot unkissed. She squirmed beneath me until I wrapped myself around her tender mound, and she cried out. As new to me as all of this was, I somehow knew what she wanted. And needed. My tongue lashed over her, stoking the fire that burned deep just as she'd done to me. I reached up and massaged her breasts. She gripped my arm and rocked herself toward me. I dove into her, surprised by my own voracity. That seemed to push her over the edge. She cried out, digging her nails into my arm as she exploded against my mouth. I worked her through it the way I would want done to me. I burned just as heatedly as she did and it took every bit of me not to move against the bed under me. Her body quaked as my continued attention sent jolts through her core. I released her and she gasped for breath, reaching for me.
I climbed up her body and she pulled me into a vicious hug, kissing my neck and shoulder as her arms trembled around me. Holding her like this soothed something deep inside me left empty for too long. I stroked her hair and when I leaned back to look at her, I found tears on her cheeks. Would she cry after each incident of lovemaking? A lump rose in my throat as I cupped her face, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. She mimicked the gesture and a wash of realization hit me like a hammer. She wasn't used to this. Being looked at and treated with gentility. And love.
As if she understood my thoughts, a light smile tugged the corner of her mouth. With every glance, every touch, my fondness for her grew. Her tears and unspoken words told me I wasn't alone in my feelings.
***
"That smells great," Jillian said, coming up behind me in the kitchen. As I flipped pancakes on the griddle, she wrapped her arms around my middle, her fingertips slipping beneath the waist of my jeans.
"So do you," I said, kissing her cheek and leaning into her embrace.
"I'll set the table." She brushed her lips across my neck and released me, leaving behind tingles on all the right places.
I stacked the cooked pancakes on a plate and carried them to the table, along with fresh strawberries and a bowl of whipped cream. Jillian poured coffee into our mugs as I sat down.
Try Pink Page 3