Hot Pursuit (Jupiter Point Book 5)

by Jennifer Bernard

  She moved with him perfectly. He felt so connected to her, as if he could feel exactly what she was experiencing. The sight of her nude and writhing body was riveting, but he was afraid it would set him off too soon. So he closed his eyes and lost himself in the glorious pleasure of her body wrapped around his.

  He gripped her ass so he could move her at will. When that seemed to excite her even more, he picked up the pace and force of his thrusts. Three years of verbal friction made for explosive hunger for each other. Grinding, desperate, sweaty, ecstatic. All his attention focused on her thrusts and responses until they were completely in sync. Down-and-dirty, nitty-gritty, balls-to-the-walls, hot, mind-blowing sex with a woman he respected just as much as he desired.

  And maybe even more.

  Her movements picked up speed, and he knew her orgasm wasn't far off. Hang on, just a little longer, even though he was about to explode. He flexed his hips to drag across her clit and she arched back with a sharp cry as the orgasm hit her. Tight flutters clenched his cock, sending fierce pleasure straight into his bloodstream.

  He gave himself a moment to soak in the sight of her spasming body and blissed-out face, but he couldn't hang on to his control. Over the top he went, down into the ferocious convulsions of a climax that shook him like an earthquake.

  He swore fiercely as he pumped into her. He couldn't help it; the words just came out, hot, dangerous words like, Fuck, you're incredible, I want to fuck you all night, you're a goddess, I love this, I love your body, the way you move, it kills me, fuck, you're hot…and other crazy shit he'd never say if he wasn't under the influence. Her influence.

  After he emptied himself, words and all, into her, he let out a guttural groan and collapsed alongside her. Pleasure traveled through him in thick waves. His cock still pulsed, even though he had nothing left. Every bit of him felt drugged with ecstasy, as if sex with Merry had saturated his being on a cellular level.

  She lay on her back, eyes half-closed, one hand resting on her stomach, her chest rising and falling. A sheen of sweat made her skin glow.

  "Jesus, Merry," he whispered as he peeled off his condom. "What was that?"

  She let out a soft, dreamy sigh, a very un-Merry-like sound. "I don't even have words. Which hardly ever happens."

  After he disposed of the condom, his eyes drifted shut and he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Merry was chuckling softly to herself.

  He dragged his eyes open. "What's funny?"

  "I think I figured it out."

  "Figured what out?"

  "Your question about what that was. Have you ever heard the term sexual soul mates?"

  He frowned. "I guess. Sure. Why?"

  "That must be what we are. Why it was so good. I mean, not to imply you aren't good all on your own, because of course you are. But us together—we must be sexual soul mates. Which is some kind of cosmic joke, because on paper, we shouldn't even get along."

  "Hmm." Well, that sure took his after-sex high down a notch. Why did she have to put everything into a category with a neat little label? He didn't like being put in a box. "As long as you have it all figured out."

  Her eyebrows drew together. "Are you offended?"

  "Not offended. Maybe irritated. Can't it just be whatever it is, without slapping a label on it?"

  She rolled onto her side, her curves gleaming in the light from her bedside lamp. She studied him for a moment. "Everyone puts labels on things. Without labels, everything would be a big jumble."

  "Maybe a jumble is a good thing now and then."

  Her mouth quirked. "I know you mean tumble, so I'm just going to fix that for you. A tumble is definitely a good thing now and then."

  He laughed and turned over, resting his head on his biceps. "I had to fall for a writer. I just had to."

  Laughter still quivered at the corners of her mouth. He felt as if a hundred years could pass, and he still wouldn't have enough of her wit and spirit.

  "It's better than falling for a cop." She made an impish face at him. "Pretty much the last thing I ever thought would happen."

  "You have something against deputy sheriffs?"

  "Yeah, can't you tell? Just look at me," she said wryly, running her hand over his thigh. "I just mean, I'm usually the last person you police officers want to see, with my little tape recorder and my annoying questions."

  "Don't be so sure about that. I never minded. I just acted like I did so you couldn't tell how attracted I was." He nuzzled the gentle curve of her neck.

  She relaxed under his touch and tilted her head to give him better access. "You know, I might have been a little prickly for the same reason."

  He laughed softly. "Maybe we're not that different. Except where it counts." Curving his hand over her smooth hip, he stroked her skin. "I'm not in your league, in terms of brains, but I must be a little smart because I fell for you."

  After a long pause, during which he wondered if he'd offended her or gotten something wrong, she slid her hand down his chest. "Okay, now you're just trying to get laid again, aren't you? Playing the sweet-guy card. Nice move."

  "Yeah? You like that?"

  "Yeah, I like it. Especially when it's combined with all this." Her hand traveled down the trail of hair that led to his privates. Just from that touch, his cock was stirring again. It rose to greet her palm, like an eager puppy looking for some love. Embarrassing, that's what it was. He needed to have a talk with that thing.

  Later. Because right now, his cock had enough to do.

  21

  During the next week or so, they worked on proving or disproving Merry's "sexual soul mate" theory. All signs pointed to it being one hundred percent true. They both liked a little edginess in bed, just enough to sharpen the experience. But Merry always needed to feel like she had a say, that she could call a stop to something at any moment. Her description of herself as "prickly" fit. But the benefit of her prickliness was that she told him straight up when she didn't like something.

  For instance, she didn't like having her hair touched in the midst of sex. She claimed it made her worry about how she'd have to fix it afterward. She also didn't like having her arms pinned to the bed. At all times, she needed to feel that she had an "out." That she could push him away or jump out of bed. Free herself.

  Of course, Will took breaks from thinking about Merry to do his job. Sheriff Perez left on his honeymoon and put him in charge. He temporarily moved into Perez's office, which still smelled like coffee and Altoids, both of which Perez had vowed to quit while he was on his honeymoon.

  Catching up with the duties and paperwork involved in the top job took a lot of attention. For the first time, he had access to the full scope of the fentanyl investigation—and it was impressively big.

  Deputy Jernigan arrested a low-level operator and brought him in for questioning. Even though Will wanted to interview the suspect himself, he was released before he got a chance. Paperwork glitch, explained a frustrated Jernigan.

  "I don't know what happened. I came in for round two and he was gone. Paperwork's all legit. Maybe it was a computer error."

  "Can we get him back in here?"

  The big deputy shrugged. "I can try, but chances are he's long gone."

  Will did get to interview the potential suspects from Heavenly Hardbodies. Two had clear alibis for the campground fires, and the third, a fisherman named Johnny Diaz, was out at sea for the week.

  So he worked on another question that puzzled him.

  Who had called the Mercury News-Gazette to get Merry pulled off the story? It wasn't Sheriff Perez. As much as he searched his files, he found no notes about it. He asked Cindy, but she knew nothing about that. Neither did Jernigan. It worried him. Something wasn't right with this investigation. Paperwork glitch? Mystery phone call? So few arrests after all this time?

  Worst of all, someone knew about Merry's involvement, and that made him nervous.

  He determined to keep a close eye on her. Which shouldn't be ha
rd now that he was spending all his free time in bed with her, testing out that sexual soul mate theory.

  On a typical pre-Will evening, Merry had worked late or taken an evening yoga class, had drinks with her friends, taught at the community college, or volunteered at her favorite charity, the Star Bright Shelter for Teens. Sometimes all of the above in a single night because she liked to keep busy.

  Post-Will, all of those things were getting neglected. All she wanted to do was race home, pick up some takeout—because they'd need fuel—and spend the entire evening in bed with the phenomenally talented and hellaciously hot Deputy Slow-mo. And yes, she finally saw the advantage of Will's thorough and meticulous attention to detail.

  For the first time in her life, she didn't want to be at work. At the paper, she was banned from working on the story she wanted to work on. And she hated the story Douglas had assigned her.

  When she told him she didn't want to work the Robert Knight cold case story, he threatened to assign it to Fiona, the "community affairs"—code for gossip—reporter. Fiona had zero scruples and hated the Knight brothers because Ben had dumped her in high school.

  So Merry kept the story, but turned herself into Reporter Slow-mo. She dragged her feet on it in every creative way she could think of. She found other news items to turn into big, BIG stories. She unearthed piles of archived material, and told Douglas she needed to read all of it to do the story justice.

  She'd scanned a few articles when she'd first heard about Will's father, but delving deeper revealed so many more details, and they were riveting.

  A respected local man was found dead in his home on Saturday. Robert Knight was found in a pool of blood on his kitchen floor. His throat had been slashed. Police say they are looking at a number of angles but have no solid suspects yet.

  It was a shocking end for a man who had spent much of his career in the Army. After retiring, he married Janine, a much younger woman, and started a family in Jupiter Point. Robert Knight was known as a stern father, a doting husband, a frequent voice in local politics, and a lover of dogs. Neighbors were used to the sight of him jogging with his three Irish setters, his posture always militarily correct. He was a churchgoer, generous with his donations. He leaves behind five children who range in ages from twenty-two to eight. No one from the family would comment for this story. A memorial is planned for this weekend.

  Then, later in the investigation…

  Local police say they're frustrated by the lack of clues in the Robert Knight murder investigation. At a hastily called town meeting, the police and sheriff's departments tried to reassure Jupiter Point residents, anxious because no suspect has been named.

  "We're stepping up patrols, and advise all residents to keep their doors locked and take other reasonable precautions," Police Chief Maddox told the Mercury News-Gazette. "At this point we have no reason to suspect that whoever killed Robert Knight is still in Jupiter Point. We hope to have more information soon, but until we do, we urge people not to panic. Just keep an eye out for anything unusual."

  There were a few more stories along the same lines. Another update was published when Janine Knight left town. Then another when Will became a deputy sheriff. But generally, the Mercury News-Gazette had done a great job keeping the coverage respectful and not sensational.

  If she was going to do this story, she intended to do the same. Which meant that she had to request an interview with the Knight brothers.

  Which she would do. As soon as she could figure out how to bring up such a sensitive topic. Will never talked about his father or the murder. Evie and the others were right. It was like the third rail of the Knight family.

  In the meantime, she did her best to back burner the story and for the first time in her life, stopped making work her primary focus. Instead, she abandoned herself to the heady pleasure of hanging out with Will. The sex was mind-blowing, but not just in the usual way of orgasms that made her scream with ecstasy. Will had a way of peering inside her head and finding the things that made her tick.

  It was as if his detective's mind was methodically cataloguing all the information he was gleaning about her likes and dislikes, her joys and traumas. Usually, as a reporter, she was the one in that role. But at the same time that Will was "learning" her, he kept throwing up smokescreens about himself. As if he didn't want to delve into painful topics—like his father's murder.

  In her mind, she was involved with two men—Will, her amazing lover, and Will, the living embodiment of "no comment."

  It would have been more frustrating if he hadn't made up for it with a steady supply of those fantastic orgasms.

  "Will," she murmured one evening after he'd fingered her to a screaming climax against the wall in the kitchen. "Will you be my man?"

  His broad chest shook in a laugh. "You mean, like your boyfriend?"

  "Yeah, except that word sounds so teenybopper. Boyfriend." She sang a tune—"'My boyfriend's back and there's gonna be trouble.'"

  "I see what you mean. So…you're doing a rewrite? Replacing boyfriend with man? I just had to fall for a writer. I just had to."

  She pulled back and glared up at him. "You're laughing at me. If that's a no, you can take your hands off my ass right now."

  "It's not a no, silly." He tightened his grip on her rear, sending pleasure tingles through the rest of her. "Of course I'll be your man. I already have been, in case you're just tuning in. Just going out on a limb here, but that means you're my woman, right?"

  "Yes, and you're lucky because I'd be a lousy girlfriend."

  "What's the difference?" He smoothed his hands in sensual circles on her ass.

  "Well, girlfriends do things like bake cookies for their guys and dress up pretty for dates, whereas I'm more likely to order takeout so we can save time and get right to the good stuff."

  She smiled up at him. She loved the feel of Will's hands on her, and the press of his hard body against hers.

  In fact, they were pressed so close together that she felt the gurgling of his stomach. "You hungry?"

  "Hell yes. How am I supposed to perform as your man on an empty stomach?"

  "Well, as your woman, the least I can do is feed you." She whipped out her cell phone. "I have every delivery service in Jupiter Point on speed dial. Pizza, Mexican or healthy California salad?"

  "Pizza. No question."

  "See what I mean? Soul mates."

  She was in the midst of dialing when a knock sounded at her front door. "Damn, that was some fast delivery." He laughed. "Can you get that, while I finish the order?"

  "You sure? Won't that let the cat out of the bag?"

  "Nah. Unless it's Mrs. Murphy at the door. Last I heard, she doesn't do home book deliveries."

  But it wasn't Mrs. Murphy. When she came into the living room, she stopped dead at the shocking sight of a very drunk Chase. The tails of his shirt hung out of his khaki shorts, and he was swaying back and forth.

  He was in a stare-down with Will, who looked every inch the law enforcement professional, legs braced apart, all power and authority. Chase gestured wildly at Merry as she came closer.

  "So I was right," Chase accused. "You are sleeping with him."

  Will practically growled as he loomed over Chase. "That's none of your business."

  Chase swayed back and forth. "But he's white!"

  "So?" Merry put her hands on her hips.

  "I thought you didn't like me cuz I'm white!"

  "Oh for heaven's sake. I never said I don't like you, Chase. Certainly not because you’re white. It's a lot more complicated than that, and you're completely wasted. We can talk about it tomorrow."

  "Oh, like we can have lunch next week, and then we never do."

  "Come on, I'm taking you home," Will told him, taking a step toward him.

  Chase backed away, took a karate-type stance, then staggered. "No."

  "It's okay, Will. You don't have to play guard dog." Even though Will didn't relax more than a millimeter, she turned to Chase
. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

  "I came to talk to you. Privately." He shot a disgruntled glance at Will. "She's my sister, you know, even though she doesn't want to admit it. I'm not going to hurt her."

  "Chase, you're drunk. You shouldn't even be here."

  "That's all you ever say! You shouldn't be here, I don't want to know you, leave me alone. How do you think that feels? Huh?"

  She exchanged an alarmed glance with Will. "Look, I'm sorry. I've been a little busy. We'll definitely talk tomorrow, after you've slept it off. Did you drive here? In that slick BMW?"

  He pointed a finger at her and rotated it in a tight circle. "You're jealous. Because I have the car and the nice house and the parents and the money. That's why you don't want to see me."

  She pressed her lips together to hold back the angry words that wanted to come out. "You really want to do this now?"

  "I came here to tell you something! Something to help you!" He threw up his hands in a defensive gesture, nearly toppling over backwards. Will caught him by the elbow, but he shrugged off the help.

  "Okay, shoot. I'm listening."

  "I have to speak to you in private. Not him." He waved at Will. "It's confidential. I could get in trouble."

  Something occurred to Merry. "Is this about work? Something at the paper?"

  He nodded and put a finger to his lips. "Secret."

  With bloodshot eyes, he held Merry's gaze, and suddenly she knew what he must be referring to. He had information about the opioids story, the one she wasn't supposed to be covering anymore. Whatever it was, he didn't want Will to hear it.

  As always, her reporter's curiosity got the best of her.

  "Will, could you give us a minute?"

  Will turned his stony cop face toward her. He did not look happy about that decision. He grabbed the jacket he'd hung on the pegboard next to her door. "I'll keep my cell on. Call if you need me."