by AJ Nuest
He blew the water off his lips and shoved up from the wall, poured a glob of shampoo into his palm and scrubbed at his hair. If Eden found out about his past, he could kiss any chance at that wet dream goodbye. And that went double for the undeserved commendation he’d accepted after the case had been closed.
Turning under the water, he rinsed out the suds, closing his eyes as the soapy water slid down his face. Hell, knowing her, she’d find the mayor’s recognition of something Kelly had never earned more offensive than anything else. Doubt would cloud her clear green gaze over why he would do something so selfish. She’d start looking at him with the same disgust he got from his older brother and dad. And the real bitch about her reaction?
She wouldn’t be wrong.
A quick scour to wash the past two days down the drain, and he cranked off the water, slid a towel from the bar opposite the shower door and wrapped it around his waist. What he should’ve done is follow his instincts from the very beginning and told the mayor to shove that award up his tight, crooked ass. For Christ’s sake, any cop worth half a damn would’ve been able to solve the case. The amount of witnesses inside that trendy downtown nightclub had made it a no-brainer.
Standing at the sink, he plucked his toothbrush from the holder, squirted a line of toothpaste over the bristles and scrubbed at his teeth. But the speed at which he’d collared an arrest wasn’t the reason he’d been decorated for his efforts, and his colleagues, his superiors…hell, anyone who owned a damned television had probably figured out what happened.
After a quick rinse and spit, he swiped a hand over the condensation coating the mirror and dug his electric razor from the drawer beside the sink. A flip of the switch, and he trimmed the overgrown stubble off his beard.
Jaclyn’s involvement as a key witness was the sole cause the case had become so high profile, and the second the media had thrust them together, he’d jumped right on the bandwagon and made one stupid mistake after the next.
He rinsed his razor and stashed it back in the drawer, tossed the towel into the hamper and stepped into his flannel pants. Tying the drawstring at his hips, he turned from the mirror, flicking off the light with his elbow as he left the bathroom.
What kinda jackass would he be to put Eden in the same position? How could he ask her to trust him, only to feed her a big fat lie in the process?
Three steps toward the bed, and he froze.
No. Oh, hell no, she hadn’t.
Moonlight spilled through the wooden slats of his blinds, creating a series of white slashes down the side of her arm, her hand, fingers and the outer contours of one bare leg she’d tossed over the covers. She lay with her back to the room, the auburn coils of her hair fanned across his pillows, and instead of the black dress she’d worn all day, that silky white robe he’d caught her in at the apartment was stretched across the wing-like triangles of her shoulder blades.
Shit, she’d brought it with her? Didn’t the woman have any idea the dangerous effects that robe on her…in his bed…could initiate?
First thing he should’ve done was confiscate her purse.
Her black dress lay crumpled on the floor near the foot of his bed, those killer heels tipped on their sides and her floppy bag unzipped like she’d been digging around inside. A lacy black bra dangled off the handle of his top dresser drawer, a matching pair of thigh high stockings looped over the knob beside it.
Jesus. He raked his hand through his damp hair. So now what? His original plan had been to climb into bed and tug her back onto his shoulder, to hold her just like before Archer had called. But five seconds nestled against those tempting curves and he’d be toast. Especially with nothing between them but that silky slip of a robe.
Dammit. He glanced toward the hallway and crossed his arms. Maybe this was his cue to go sleep on the pullout. Another hungry examination of her toned leg stretched along his blankets, the flawless skin at the top of her thigh, and his cock flexed against his loose pants.
Goddamn it, how was he supposed to choose between the torture of sleeping next to her, and the stress of knowing he’d left her to wake up in some strange bed, disoriented and freaking out over the day she’d just had?
“Okay, you’re creeping me out.” She lifted her cheek off the pillow. “Is there a reason you’re standing there staring at me?”
A puff of air left his lips. He should’ve figured she was awake. “I’m trying to decide if I should get into bed with you.”
“Really? That’s your big conundrum?” Rolling back onto her side, she worked her leg inside the blankets and snuggled deeper against the pillows. “For God’s sake, stop prowling around like a psycho and get in the damn bed.”
Right. A smile hitched one side of his lips as he pulled the rumpled covers away from the headboard and crawled in beside her. He punched the pillow under his ear, shifting around until he was comfortable, the heat of her legs warming his pants as he inched across the bed. Torture it is.
“Who was that on the phone?”
“Archer.” He shoved his hand under his pillow and yanked it deeper into the crook of his neck. “Lead narcotics detective. He and Ruby were working together prior to…”
Well, shit. Way to make sure Eden had pleasant dreams. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” She lifted the blankets and pulled a one-eighty, bouncing around on the mattress until she faced him. A waft of her sleep-warmed skin coasted over his face as she resettled the covers, and he inhaled her deep into his lungs. “Was he that really bad rendition of a bum I saw the other night in the alley?”
Kelly smiled. “One and the same.”
“Did he have any information about Malcolm?”
His smile dropped off into the dark. No. He wasn’t doing this with her. Not in the middle of the night when they both needed more sleep. He eased his legs forward until their toes bumped, then propped her feet on top of his and breathed a little easier when she didn’t automatically pull away. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
Her hair whispered over the pillows as she nodded. “Thank you, Kelly. For everything you did for me today.” She worked one foot between his ankles and he bit back a groan as the weight of her leg slid up his calf, past his knee to between his thighs. “You broke a ton of rules by bringing me here and I know that wasn’t easy for you.”
Hell, keeping Eden clear of a station interrogation and any impending fallout were the least of his problems. At least, right now. The heat of her inner thigh sent a heavy pulse into his groin, and he flopped onto his back, cheeks expanding as he exhaled toward the ceiling.
No, not just torture. The persistent throb in his cock hit somewhere closer to agony. He fisted the blankets against the urge to wrap his hand behind her knee and wrench it higher, drag her thigh back and forth over his aching dick so she’d understand how something as simple as draping her leg around his nearly killed him.
She lifted onto her elbow and leaned over him, the moonlight turning her hair into an auburn halo, the rest of her pretty face hidden in shadow. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” His response came out sharper than he’d intended, and she slumped. Dammit, he was an ass, but the last thing she needed was him horn-dogging all over the place. She’d been to hell and back. Comfort, safety, and a quiet place to sleep were what she needed.
The deep vee of her robe gaped along her breasts, and he quickly clasped the side of her neck and urged her head down to his shoulder. Fucking great. He could just see DeFranco’s autopsy report now.
Cause of death: Hard-on; massive loss of blood flow to the victim’s head.
“I’m fine.” He swept a kiss along her brow. “Let’s just…go to sleep.”
“Okay. It’s been a long day.” Plastering every inch of silk-covered skin against his side, she wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed. “God, you smell good enough to eat.”
Yep. And it was gonna be one helluva long night. “So do you, Eden.” He settl
ed his hand on the small of her back. “So do you.”
Chapter 10
Her stomach rumbled, and Eden blinked into the gray morning streaming through the blinds in Kelly’s bedroom.
She stretched, hands sliding under the pillows toward the headboard, her toes searching the snug fit of the blankets for the end of the bed. God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Odd, since occupying the same sleeping space with anyone usually shrank her comfort level to the dread of undergoing a root canal.
No matter how hard she tried, she could never unwind enough to drop off, worried too much that falling asleep would leave her vulnerable.
Not with Kelly, though.
She frowned and shifted her gaze back and forth over the fitted sheet. Then again, she’d already exposed more of herself to him than she had anyone else in…well, forever. And the more she did, the more he seemed ready to jump to her defense. Made sense, she’d be able to relax enough around him to get a good night’s sleep.
A shiver traveled her spine as a large warm hand slid around her waist and jerked her back into the heat and hard, angular planes of his body. His heavy leg slid between hers, and she lifted one shoulder as his prickly beard tickled the sensitive skin under her ear.
He swept a kiss along the top of her shoulder and she smiled, twining her fingers through his, closing her eyes as she snuggled against him. She kinda liked it when he got grabby. The way he wrapped himself around her like a blanket made her all warm and tingly inside.
The stiff, hot ridge of his morning erection poked her bottom, and her eyes popped open. Hold the phone…
Shit. She wrinkled her nose. Okay, fine. Sooner or later this was bound to happen. With him practically lying on top of her, their legs tangled and his face buried in her hair, the guy would have to be half-dead not to have some sort of reaction. Especially first thing in the morning…and given the sparks that had detonated between them during the kiss they’d shared at the apartment.
There was no denying they were attracted to one another. For God’s sake, Kelly Riordan was a walking, talking billboard advertising the promise of orgasmic, body-shattering sex. Under a different set of circumstances, she would probably ram her ass against that rock-hard invitation, maybe wriggle her hips to silently offer him the go-ahead.
But this wasn’t just any situation.
Easing his hand aside, she shimmied out from under his full body hug and swung her feet to the floor. Sex with a stranger, she could do. Those hook-ups were about nothing but physical release. She could become anyone she wanted during those moments, hide behind one of her personas and then disappear into the crowd, just another consenting adult who got sidetracked by a disgruntled libido.
The same couldn’t be said of…whatever this was.
She walked to the end of the bed, rearranging her disheveled pile of ringlets in the wide mirror above his dresser. The second she disappeared inside herself, he’d call her bluff, get upset she’d tried to fake him out. Becoming someone else while he kissed her, even for a second or two, would send up all sorts of red flags. Not to mention what would happen once they were joined at the hips.
He rolled onto his back in the reflection of the mirror and one of her brows rose. Her hands slowly fell from her hair. The crumpled edge of the white sheet rode the narrow taper of his hips, left hand still buried under her pillow, right arm crooked at a slight angle and fingers splayed over the square muscles of his stomach. A raised vein trailed along the bulge of his right bicep, disappearing as it veered toward the underside of his forearm. Eight tiered ridges encased either side of his ribcage, and she squinted at the looping scrawl of two black tattoos running the length of each dense external oblique.
The flip of the mirror, coupled with the elaborate text, made deciphering the words difficult. Service. She tipped her head and followed the lines to read the other side. Sacrifice.
Yep. That perfectly summed up his dedication to the job.
A flutter warmed her stomach as her gaze fell to the jumbled confusion of wrinkles near the tops of his thighs. Even though the sheet was loosely draped over his waist, a gap pleated the material, directly below a strip of dark hair that arrowed toward the drawstring of his navy flannel pants. And lower…
She swallowed at the dryness in her throat. Good God, the way the fabric tented over that thick ridge, every nerve-ending in her body pulsed with the need to take a running leap straight back into his bed.
His hand slid down and his fingers flexed as he stroked himself through the sheet. A throb moistened the skin between her thighs. Her sex ached, clenched…
Shit. Out! Get out now!
Jerking into action, she spun from the mirror and strode past the lure of all that hot, sandalwood-infused flesh for the bedroom door.
Her footsteps padded down the soft carpeting of the hallway, beyond the fireplace and couch until she rounded the breakfast bar and hit the cold slate of the kitchen floor. She shivered and crossed her arms over her tight nipples, tossed her head back and delivered a stinging mental slap to her nagging sex drive.
What the hell? Evidently, she wasn’t cut out for sharing such close quarters with anyone. Especially a man who appealed to her on such a carnal level. And she certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who believed in some yippy-skippy idea of romance. Not with a police detective, of all things. One whose piercing eyes had a habit of peering straight through her smokescreens into her soul.
This wasn’t some week-long getaway where she could forget who she was for a while. Pretend. This was real life. And real life was filled with heartache and rejection and pain.
She lowered her head and her gaze landed on the empty coffee maker sitting to the right of the stainless steel sink. Yes. A hefty dose of caffeine should go a long way toward rebooting the hardware back online.
Tiptoeing to the refrigerator, she swung the door open and peeked inside, grinned and plucked a bag of Starbuck’s from the plastic compartment, second row down.
Coffee maker locked and loaded, a steady stream of hot brew drizzling into the pot, she searched the cupboards for a mug and then snagged a loaf of bread from the narrow pantry beside the fridge.
Toaster…toaster… She tapped her lips until she’d located Kelly’s toaster oven, then slipped two pieces of bread onto the wire rack and cranked the timer.
The coffee maker beeped three times and gargled a waft of steam, and Eden filled the cup before topping it off with some non-dairy hazelnut creamer she’d come across in her search for the milk.
The first sip heated her tongue and warmed her throat, and a grateful hum escaped. Thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing her attention to the sliding glass doors centered between the living room and Kelly’s formal dining table. She cupped the mug to warm her hands, skirted the breakfast bar and the back of the couch, and pushed the edge of one long curtain aside.
A mammoth-sized barbeque grill squatted against the back of the house, only the wheels and bottoms of the stainless steel legs visible beneath the gray plastic cover. A circular wooden table occupied the concrete pad, the green canvas umbrella lowered and secured to the pole with several yellow Bungee cords. Matching chairs were stacked in a tower beside a black patio storage container, an empty cast-iron Chiminea guarded the northwest corner and, farther on, a series of middle-class homes flanked the back and both sides of the lawn.
Cripes, the view was like a John Hughes movie. Eden brought the mug to her lips for another swallow. The idyllic image of suburban living outside Kelly’s windows pretty much nailed the exact unease she’d been struggling to reconcile.
Normal. Everything here was completely normal. An iconic representation of domestic tranquility…home, family, security.
None of those things had a place in her world. She didn’t have the first clue what it meant to be “normal.” By agreeing to come here, she’d coasted into uncharted waters and run aground on an island where she had zero reference.
/> Another ominous grumble shook the window panes and she leaned in to peer up at the bloated thunderclouds scudding across the sky. And on the horizon, a dangerous storm threatened. One with an outcome as unpredictable as whatever the hell she was supposed to do next.
Last night, Kelly had said he didn’t want her to be anyone but herself. While she’d believed him at the time, people often said things they didn’t mean during moments of crisis, and no one could deny yesterday had been one giant catastrophe after the next.
If the two of them stuck with each other long enough for him to truly know her, chances were good he’d change his tune. He’d been right. Lying to him was a waste of time, and she had no choice but to trust him. In order to stay safe while locating Malcolm and Ruby’s killer, she needed Kelly’s help. Hell, they needed each other’s help.
Unfortunately, that also meant she’d have to be honest with him. Admit things. Difficult things. Things people who lived in neighborhoods like this generally turned a blind eye toward because they’d just rather not know.
Once everything was said and done, whether or not his being a cop worked to help or hinder his opinion of her was still up for grabs. But she wouldn’t count on his acceptance. She’d learned a long time ago setting those expectations was a stupid mistake.
A shrieking beep pealed through the house, and her heart jack hammered into her throat. The security system. She spun from the sliding glass doors, her focus zigzagging between the front door and the utility room. Dammit, had the killer found her?
A black haze billowed toward the ceiling from the toaster oven. The smoke detector above flashed a continuous red light, screaming like a noisemaker during the countdown to New Year’s Eve.