Break for Me

by Shiloh Walker

  It was time she did, though.

  Her brother, Tate, had been running from the truth all these years … and she’d been doing some running of her own. She was a hypocrite, too, because she’d called him out on it, while she was still here trying to figure out if she was going to face the facts or just continue to hide, like the scared little girl she’d been fifteen years ago.

  Chapter Seven

  Pushed too damn hard, he told himself as they worked together in silence, cleaning up after the meal.

  He’d told her he’d handle it, but she had just rolled her eyes and gone about helping him clean up.

  Dean wasn’t about to argue. He didn’t mind cooking—actually, he kind of enjoyed it, but he hated the cleanup part with a passion.

  It was a welcome distraction now, though. Something else to think about besides just her. Besides the fact that he’d pushed her too hard—attraction was one thing, but telling her that this wasn’t something that had just … hell, happened? Yeah, she didn’t need this on top of all the other shit she was dealing with.

  Now he had to figure out if he’d fucked it up good or just set them back a little.

  The bottle of wine from the local winery, Lanthier, had enough left for them to split a glass and he held it up as she finished rinsing off a plate. She smiled at him but the smile was distracted, like she was a million miles away.

  At least she ain’t running, right?

  As much as he admired her very nice ass, he was getting kind of tired of seeing that view more than anything else. So he had to be happy that she hadn’t taken off.

  He knew enough about Jensen Bell to know one simple thing—if she’d decided she didn’t want to be here, she wasn’t going to hang around, not even for the sake of politeness.

  The silence gratedon him as he finished his wine. He dumped the bottle, trying to find some way to fill that silence, but when he turned around, Jensen was standing in front of him. Right there.

  So close. Too close.

  The scent of her, rain, sweet woman, soft skin, and the subtle fragrance of the lotion she wore, flooded his head as he reached up to steady himself before he crashed into her. Fingers closing around her arms, he looked down into her face, watched as a slow, subtle flush crept over her cheeks. “Sorry,” he said and his voice came out low and raw. Clearing his throat, he went to step back.

  She reached out and rested her hands on his waist.

  He stilled.

  Barely even a foot separated them and then, not even that as she moved forward, pressing her body to his.

  “I’ve got to tell you the truth, Dean,” she said, her voice soft. “I don’t think I’m into comfort sex or being seduced.”

  His gut tightened. Confusion warred inside him. It didn’t help, either, just hearing her say the word sex. Seeing her mouth—that pretty mouth that just drove him crazy—and knowing he wasn’t going to be …

  She leaned into him, her hands sliding under the hem of his T-shirt, her fingers cool against his skin as she rose up onto her toes and pressed her mouth to his. “If there’s going to be a seduction, how about we seduce each other?”

  Her mouth opened against his and he was still processing what she’d said even as he hauled her up against him.

  Spinning around, he boosted her up and set her on the island. She laughed against his mouth and he tangled a fist in her hair, yanked her head back.

  “Quiet,” he muttered. Then he took her mouth.

  She groaned against his lips and opened for him. The raw, ragged edges of the day melted away as her tongue came out and stroked against his own.

  Heart pounding like he’d just run a marathon, he leaned in against her, felt the heat of her through thin cotton pants. He reached between them and pressed the heel of his palm against her. “Break for me,” he muttered against her lips. She was already wet and he thought his brain was going to explode as a hard shudder rocked her body.

  A sharp cry escaped her when he pulled back and caught the waistband of her pants and yanked them and her panties down, stripping her from below the waist.

  She sat half-naked on the island in under a minute. Her eyes, wide and dazed, lifted to his. “Dean…”

  He put his hands on the soft, silken skin of her inner thighs, watched her face flush as he moved them higher and higher, closing in on the heated core of her cunt. “I want to see you break for me,” he said again.

  “I…” She licked her lips. “We’re supposed to be…”

  The words faded away as he reached the apex of her thighs and used one thumb to part her. The curls between her thighs were tight, shades darker than her hair, and already wet. He licked his thumb and watched as her eyes went opaque. “Lie back.”

  * * *

  Jensen couldn’t breathe.

  She was almost positive of it.

  A sharp gasp tried to work its way out of her, but even as she thought she might be able to force that air out, Dean’s voice, that rich as chocolate voice, stroked over her as he murmured, “Lie back.”

  The strength seeped out of her and she sagged back onto her elbows, staring up at him.

  A smile crooked his lips as he bent over her, his dreadlocks falling forward. They brushed over her, teasing her through her shirt as he rubbed his lips over hers. “I want to eat you up,” he said.

  Please do.

  She would have said it if she’d had the air.

  Thoughts about them seducing each other fled. He could seduce her all he wanted. She’d take her turn later.

  His teeth nipped her lower lip, trailed down lower. Cool air kissed her flesh and that sharp burst of air that had been lodged in her throat worked free as she realized he was unbuttoning her shirt. His lips touched each inch of flesh he exposed and the rough texture of his hair scraped over her skin, another teasing caress that sent her shooting higher and higher.

  As he reached her hip bone, she wilted completely and went limp on the island countertop.

  Dean worked his hands under her hips, lifted her up.

  And bliss exploded through her as he licked her clit.

  Tangling her hands in his hair, she arched against him, working her hips against his mouth, desperate that he might move before he did that again … and again … and again.

  But he didn’t move.

  At least, he didn’t move away.

  He scraped his teeth lightly against her sensitive skin, flicked her with his tongue, muttered against her.

  Need clenched hot and painful through her and then he was gone.

  “What … wait…”

  “Not without me,” he said, hauling her off the island and into his arms.

  Blearily, she stared at him, his eyes stark in his face, need stamped in every line.

  The room blurred around them and then she was on the bed. He fought with her shirt, then his. He moved again, out of her line of sight and she sat up, watched as he wrenched open the drawer by his bed. “Like to be prepared, I see,” she said, her throat dry.

  “Yeah, ever since you went and made me and my dick feel like we were teenagers again,” he said, his voice just a little unsteady. He tossed a box of condoms onto the bed, keeping one packet in his hand. “I can’t be around you without getting a fucking erection, Jensen, and it’s only gotten worse since I slept with you.”

  His hands cupped her face and she braced herself, her breath catching.

  But there was no breath-stealing kiss.

  It was gentle, sweet … and her heart ached when he lifted his head.

  “You undo me,” he whispered. “You completely undo me.”

  Swallowing, she closed a hand around his wrist, staring up into his eyes. “Dean.” She didn’t know what to say to him. “I…”

  He just shook his head and urged her onto her back. “Lie down for me. Let me love you.”

  Her heart all but ripped open for him.

  * * *

  Let me love you …

  Fuck. He might as well just go to his knees and
beg her to see what he felt.

  But all she did was give him a tremulous smile, her eyes locked on his face.

  He went to tear open the condom but she took it from him, pushing back up to deal with it and his cock jumped at the feel of her fingers, slim and strong as she unrolled it down over the swollen head, working it down his shaft.

  Then he groaned as she reached down and cupped his balls.

  “You’re a witch,” he muttered, tumbling her down onto her back and settling himself between her thighs.

  “I think you like it.”

  “I love it.” I love you … What would she say? Would she run?

  Her eyes locked on his as he hooked his arms under hers, emotion pounding inside, pulsing through him. He couldn’t hide it as he slowly slid inside her, the heat of her pussy closing around him like a fist.

  He should look away, tuck his head against her neck, something. Anything.

  But her eyes held him captive, and he thought maybe, just maybe … everything he felt was written, echoed on her face, too.

  Her body arched to meet his, a broken sigh coming from her while her heart slammed against his own.

  “Jensen…”

  One hand curled around his shoulders, the other tangling in his dreads.

  But her eyes remained locked on his.

  And even as the climax rushed closer and closer, they didn’t look away.

  It broke around them—broke through them.

  The sound of his name on her lips had to be one of the sweetest damn things he’d ever heard.

  As he collapsed, his head between the slight curves of her breasts, the words he had to say to her tried to break free.

  He kept them locked inside.

  For now.

  I love you …

  Chapter Eight

  “If nobody is dead or in dire straits, I’m going to kill you, brother.”

  Jensen was just barely roused enough to make sense of those words.

  With a smile on her face, she rolled around in the huge lake of a bed and looked over at Dean.

  In the dim light that filtered through the curtains, he looked like some sort of fantasy made real. The muscles of his chest and belly were perfectly delineated without him looking like he worshipped at the altar of the gym lords and she wanted to spend hours learning that amazing body. He’d pulled his dreads back into a tail before they fell into bed and she wanted to pull the band out of his hair, fill her hands with it, and bite his mouth and just enjoy him.

  He flicked a look at her, then.

  The bottom of her stomach fell out.

  Slowly, he sat up.

  When he held out a hand, without thinking twice, she put her hand in his.

  “You sure, Ty?” He paused and then sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. You can come on over. No. No … she’s ah … well. She’ll be here.”

  He hung up then and looked over at her.

  “Ty?”

  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Under the warm, dark brown of his skin, the muscles of his back flexed. Tension all but crawled from him.

  “Was that your brother?” she asked softly.

  He nodded and rubbed his hands over his face. Then he slowly lifted his head. “Ty … Tyrese.”

  “He’s the doctor, right? Is everything okay?”

  * * *

  The doctor.

  Rising from the bed, Dean grabbed a pair of workout pants from the footboard and dragged them up over his naked hips before he looked at her.

  “Ty is a doctor, but he…” Dean paused and looked over at Jensen. She sat in the middle of his bed, the sheets pooled around her, faint light coming in to dance across her elegant, sleek body. There were marks on her, he thought. Where he’d gripped her hips and one where he’d pressed his mouth to her right breast and suckled as she arched against him and cried out. He had scratches up and down his arms and if he was awake right now, it ought to be because he was ready to roll back into her arms and make love to her again.

  Instead, he was getting ready to break her.

  “Tyrese is a forensic pathologist, baby,” he said gently.

  Her mouth went tight.

  Just like that, she went from woman to cop.

  Eyes flat, face unreadable.

  She said nothing as she climbed from the bed.

  He grabbed a shirt from his closet and held it out to her. She pushed her arms into it, her fingers moving down the buttons, smooth and efficient. “Who was he calling about?”

  He didn’t answer until she turned her head and met his gaze in the darkened light of the room.

  A knot settled in his throat and he crossed the floor to stand in front of her. Reaching up, he cupped her cheek in his hand, stroked his thumb across her lip.

  “I asked him to look at the photos.”

  She didn’t ask which ones.

  “He knows something,” she said, her voice low.

  “He didn’t say. But…” Dean moved his shoulders. “Ty is good at what he does.”

  Good didn’t even touch on it. Dean was smart—had graduated at the top of his class, scholarships, all that jazz.

  Ty was something else, though. He’d started college at fifteen, had graduated from medical school at twenty-four. To their parents’ dismay, instead of going into traditional medicine, though, Ty had a head, and a passion, for forensics. It had taken a while for him to settle, but he was damn good at his job.

  And if he had a feeling about the pictures Dean had sent him …

  Jensen continued to watch him, her green-gold eyes carefully blank.

  “Why did you send him the photos?”

  “Because you’ve waited long enough. I made copies. Did it a few days ago.” He wasn’t going to apologize. The hell if he lied. “If we wait for the state lab to work around to this, you know you’re looking at months. Even with the evidence of trauma…” Carefully, tread carefully … this isn’t just a case. “You know how backlogged they are. If we had our own team here, we could move forward faster, but we don’t. I had a connection, so I used it.”

  “Whatever he has, it may not be admissible.”

  Dean smoothed his hand down her neck and gently, fearing she’d pull away, he eased her up against his body. “I wasn’t trying to build a case. I was asking for you.”

  She was wrong, though.

  Ty had worked as a consultant more than once.

  If he had put something together, if there was evidence that Dean could use, he’d damn well use it.

  * * *

  Her jeans were a damp tangle still and she shivered just thinking about pulling them on.

  But as she went to pick them up, Dean pushed a pair of sweats into her hands. “Here,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck before moving around her into the kitchen. “You don’t want to wear wet clothes, do you?”

  “Not really.” She held up the sweats to her waist, eyeing them narrowly. “I’m going to swim in these.”

  “You can always put on the wet jeans.”

  “No, thanks.” She wrinkled her nose and pulled them on, watching Dean as he gathered up the clothes strewn across the floor. Looking down at herself, she pointed out the obvious. “I’ve got your clothes on. It’s after ten. It’s going to be kind of obvious what’s going on here.”

  He lifted a brow. “That a problem?”

  “Not for me.” She pushed her hair back, hoping it fell into some kind of order before sliding him a look. Her belly jumped around while her heart started to slam against her ribs. Nervous, she realized. I’m nervous. Over a guy. “Is it going to be for you? Your brother or your folks?”

  “They aren’t sleeping with you. I am.”

  Sleeping with you. It sounded kind of … well, maybe not permanent, but like there was a relationship thing there. She liked it. “So we’re not trying to hide this.”

  He opened a door and she watched as he put her jeans and shirt into a dryer, started it. As the machine started,
he closed the door behind him. There was a queer look in his eyes, intense, watchful. Possessive. “I have no desire to hide it.” His arms shot up, caging her in against the island. He bent down, caught her lower lip between his teeth. “Do you?”

  “No. I’m not really sure what this is, but … no.”

  “Good.” His mouth slanted over hers, hungry, demanding and she felt the strength drain out of her, replaced by loose, limpid desire. She wanted to curl herself around him and take giant, greedy bites out of him. Because she thought she just might do that, she gripped the island at her back.

  She was already tempted to lean against him. Hide behind him, maybe.

  When he lifted his head, she licked her lips, tasting him there.

  “We can figure out what this is as it develops.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Just … just don’t pull away from me. Not now.”

  “I can handle that.” She turned her head, pressed a kiss to his palm. “No pulling away. Although I might end up trying to hide behind you, once I hear whatever your brother has to say.”

  “Like you’d let yourself take the easy way.” He rubbed his thumb over her lip, then dipped his head, pressed his brow to hers. “I’ll be right here, Jensen. No matter what.”

  Staring into his eyes, she let herself take a little bit of comfort in that. Slowly, needing to touch him, needing that connection, she reached out and curved her hands over his lean hips. “I’m not ready for this. I’ve waited for this for so long, and now I’m not ready.”

  “No matter what happens, Jensen, I’m here.” For a minute, just a minute, the world was nothing but them. “I’m right here.”

  * * *

  When the doorbell rang just a few minutes later, Jensen flinched. Dean hugged her against him and wished he could just take her away from here, but that wasn’t going to fix the hurt inside her.

  Pressing a kiss to her temple, he whispered, “Remember. I’m right here.”

  She nodded and when he held out his hand, she reached out and grabbed it, squeezing convulsively.

  Ty didn’t knock again.