Under the Covers

by Jo Barrett

  Jane slipped her hand from his jeans and wrapped her arms around him as his kiss softened. Lifting her mouth just a fraction from his, she said, “I think we should get inside before someone sees us.”

  He cradled her face in his hands and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed. His panting breaths fanning her heated face.

  She couldn’t believe she had just given him an orgasm and with little effort. But when she’d touched him, she couldn’t refrain from stroking him. Smooth as silk, and yet hard and hot. And the way his eyes rolled back in his head, gave her a sense of power she’d never experienced before.

  Oh, she’d thoroughly enjoyed their exchanges the night before, and she’d done a lot more to bring him to a shouting climax, but somehow this was different. Perhaps because they’d only shared a heated kiss and some fevered caresses. There had been no real foreplay, no long steady climb. And just maybe, he’d been thinking about her the same way she’d been thinking about him all day long. Just maybe there was more to this arrangement than sex.

  She mentally shook off that thought. It would do her no good to start thinking like that where Jacob was concerned. He’d laid down the rules, and she’d accepted them.

  He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then released her to zip up his pants. With a warm smile, he took her hand in his and led her down the alley to the back door of the store. Within moments, he had her naked and lying on the sleeping bag, while he tortured her with his tongue.

  After she’d climaxed for the second time, he trailed kisses up her body to lie alongside her. “Payback’s hell, isn’t it,” he said, nuzzling at her neck.

  With a giggle, she said, “You’d better watch it, you sound too proud of yourself.”

  “Do I? Well, I guess you’ll have to do something about that.”

  “Oh, I plan to, mister.” She pushed him over and straddled his thighs. “I hope you’re ready.”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” he said, his rigid shaft twitching against her tender folds.

  With a smile, she rocked her hips and massaged him with the remnants of her climax.

  His eyes widened, as his chocolate gaze warmed. “Baby, you are really playing with fire.”

  “Just a few more strokes, Jacob,” she said, her breath coming in hitches. “You feel so good.”

  Gritting his teeth, Jacob gripped her hips and increased the pace. He wouldn’t last long at this rate, but had to keep from shooting off. Or worse, flipping her over and driving home without a condom. They were tempting fate by going this far without one, but the feel of her against his straining cock felt so right, and she wanted it as much as he did, he couldn’t bring himself to put a stop to it and slip on a condom. Not yet.

  “Oh! I’m almost there,” she cried.

  He held on for another long agonizing minute while she approached yet another peak. But his hold was tenuous at best. “Can’t—hold—on—”

  She cursed and leapt off of him. He struggled to suck in air, the loss of her heat had been so abrupt it was painful. Then, before he could manage another thought, she rolled a condom over his cock, and crashed down onto him. Within seconds, she was plunging up and down, rubbing back and forth, until they both flew off into oblivion, and strangely without a sound from either one of them, their climax was so powerful neither could’ve uttered a word much less a shout.

  As though someone had cut the strings on a marionette, she collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her, his muscles quivering from the exquisite exertion, but didn’t want to let her go. Never had he experienced such passion before. No woman had ever brought him so high, nor made him so weak, he thought with a quiet chuckle.

  “What?” she asked, her voice thick and lazy.

  He sifted her soft blonde curls through his fingers and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Nothing, rest.”

  “Hmm?”

  He didn’t answer her sleepy response, and continued to stroke her head. After a few minutes, he was certain she was asleep, and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag over top of them. With care not to wake her, he eased a hand in between them and removed the spent condom. The concept of making love to her without one flashed through his mind, and he quickly put it aside.

  They did not make love, they had sex. Big difference. This was not that type of relationship. He didn’t want to get involved.

  And yet, as he dozed with her in his arms, content and sated, he knew he no longer had a choice. They were involved, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Unless…he felt her stir as he’d come to what would be their next best step.

  “You awake?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She eased off of him and covered a yawn. Her gaze refused to meet his as her face began to fill with color. “I, um, had a big day and guess I was just worn out after, well, after everything.”

  He adored how she blushed—everywhere, but he needed to focus. “I’ve been thinking that maybe we shouldn’t see each other—like this, I mean, for a few days.”

  She slowly lifted her gaze to his. For a moment, however brief, he saw hurt in her eyes, but she pushed it away as she grinned.

  “I guess I could do with some more rest. You have inventory and I just had a grand opening. I’ll be pretty busy over the next couple of days, I guess. What with all the curious townspeople wanting a good look at me. The bolts get heavy after a while, and of course you have to pull them out to get a good look at the fabric.”

  He couldn’t contain his grin. When she was shy, like now, she either clammed up completely, because she was at a total loss as to what to say, or rambled on, determined to fill the silence. Funny how he’d noticed that about her, how he noticed a lot of things.

  Shaking off the distraction, he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. “We both need rest. Just for a couple of days. Then…” He trailed a finger from her lips, down her throat, to her breast, then encircled the tip until it began to pebble. “We’ll begin again,” he said, then took the tip into his mouth.

  He savored the sweetness of her skin, the feel of the tight bud against his tongue, and most of all the sound of her soft moans of response.

  “This is—uh—rest?” she whispered roughly.

  “We can rest tomorrow night.”

  And they would. He was determined to keep his hands off her for at least a couple of days. To rest? Sure, but more to test his resolve. To want her as much as he did, to relish the feel of her sleeping beside him so much were warning signs. Signs he needed to heed if he wanted to end their arrangement—someday—without destroying his heart.

  Chapter Five

  “What can I get for you, Miss Walters?”

  Jane eyed the beautiful cut of beef, but knew her budget was pure hamburger. “A pound of ground round, please.”

  “I’ve got a special on T-bones, if you’re interested.”

  “Thank you, but I’ll just take the ground beef.”

  He gave her a nod, then glanced behind her. “I’ll be with you in a second, Jacob.”

  “No hurry,” he said, and the hairs on the back of Jane’s neck stood up. She could swear she felt his heat radiating through the back of her blouse. She didn’t dare turn and look at him, everyone would know, they’d see it all on her face, in her eyes. And what the hell was he doing here? They’d agreed to not see each other for a few days, and this was only day two.

  The first night without him had been pure torture, but she would be the first to admit, she’d gotten some rest, after a sleeping pill, damn him.

  He reached around her for the sales flyer sitting atop the meat counter, his arm brushing ever-so slightly against hers.

  “I have a craving for something I can’t quite put my finger on,” he murmured lowly.

  Jane swallowed a moan as every touch, every kiss, every decadent moment they’d shared flooded her senses. Looked like she’d be taking another pill tonight. Maybe two. She couldn’t handle the constant ache, the
need, the insane desire to have him.

  How many times over the last thirty-six hours had she looked across the street? How many times did she have to ask a customer to repeat what they’d said, because her mind was on him? And now here he was—torturing her, bringing back every fantasy she’d had since they were last together.

  “Here you go, Miss Walters,” the butcher said, jerking her from the heated thoughts springing to life in her mind.

  She struggled to say thank you around her constricted throat, then snatched up her ground round and darted down the canned goods aisle, her breathing sporadic, her heart racing.

  She came to an abrupt stop and stood staring at jars of spaghetti sauce. If he wasn’t careful everyone would know. He knew she was terrible with lies, and not much better with secrets. Especially when all she’d wanted to do was fall back against him and let him do mind-altering things with his lips and hands.

  She heard footsteps coming closer, and did her best to put on a normal face and calm her sporadic heart, hoping whoever it was, would ignore her.

  “Pardon me,” Jacob said, reaching around her to the shelf.

  So startled that it was him, she jumped with a faint squeak, and fell back against his chest before he could retrieve a jar of sauce.

  “Easy now,” he said lowly, steadying her with a hand at her waist.

  “I—I’m fine. Thank you,” she said, but didn’t move an inch, and just stood there savoring the simplest of touches.

  She felt his soft chuckle against her back.

  “You really are a terrible liar, Jane,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing across her ear.

  She couldn’t contain her shudder of pleasure.

  “Meet me tonight,” he whispered, then gave her side a gentle squeeze. He pulled away and was gone before she could form a coherent answer.

  Once in control, and with a silent shriek of glee, she did her best not to run back to her apartment like a mad woman. She wanted to take a long hot bath, soften every inch of her skin, and scent her body with the most tantalizing aroma she had so she could drive him as mad as he’d driven her. Oh, she’d meet him tonight, but she’d get a little delicious revenge while she was at it.

  It had been his idea to not see each other, his idea that had driven her crazy, his idea that made her look ridiculous in front of customers. Oh, he was in for it, all right. She’d bring him as close as she could to a climax and then back off, over and over, until he was begging.

  She grinned at the jars sitting innocently in front of her on the shelf. Of course she wouldn’t leave him begging. Torturing herself wasn’t part of the bargain, he’d managed to do that enough already, but he was definitely going to suffer.

  ****

  Jacob hid his satisfied grin as he checked out his small basket of groceries, groceries he didn’t need in the least. But when he saw her walking down the street toward the market, he couldn’t stop himself from following her, even though they’d agreed not to meet for a few days. She’d become like a drug to his senses after only two nights. He had to see her, touch her, and later tonight he would taste her.

  There was no doubt he had succeeded in creating the same need inside her sweet little body. He felt it in the way she unconsciously molded against him as he stood behind her with his hand on her waist, the way her breath caught in her throat, the way her body quivered with anticipation. Oh yes, he would be seeing Miss Jane Walters this evening.

  But as day turned to night, there was no sign of her. Perhaps she had more stamina than he did, perhaps he read her all wrong, and perhaps he was in deep trouble that her absence left an irritating hole in the pit of his stomach.

  “Shit,” he grumbled, and marched to the door to through the bolt home with a flick of his wrist. The resounding clack struck at his growing headache.

  “This is the last thing I need,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved with her, knew she was dangerous the first time he’d laid eyes on her. His bright idea of it being only for sex had blown up in his face.

  With a growl, he lifted his head and started to turn away from the door, when a light in The Sew Spot caught his eye. She was still working.

  Maybe—he ground his teeth as he spun away from the window. Snatching up his keys, he headed out the back door and started for home. But he only got as far as the corner before turning back to Main Street. He had to know why she didn’t show, and more importantly how bad did he really have it.

  He jogged across the silent street and stepped up to the window to peer inside. His jaw dropped at the sight. The store looked like a hurricane had hit it, and there was no sign of Jane. His stomach clenched as fear settled deep inside him. He reached out and tried the door, but found it locked.

  Not sure what had happened, or what could be happening, he decided it would be best to check things out in back before banging on the door. If someone was in there with her, someone who shouldn’t be, he could make things worse.

  Easing around the side of the store, he chanced a glance up the stairs to her apartment, but no lights were on. He continued behind the building with cautious steps, then dodged into the shadows against the wall as light spilled from the back door out across the pavement. The sound of something dragging reached his ears, and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat as the images of what would make such a noise flashed through his thoughts. He did his best to ignore them.

  The light cast a shadow of a person onto the pavement and he held his breath. If anything had happened to her…Christ! He was in way deeper than he’d realized.

  Jane appeared a moment later, dragging a large box filled with fabric bolts out the door. He let out a whoosh of air, and shook his head at his overactive imagination, but his other problem wouldn’t go away. He had no choice but to break things off with her. He could not, would not fall into that trap again.

  “Need a hand?” he asked, stepping from the shadows.

  She gasped. “Oh! Geez, you scared me half to death.”

  With a shrug as an apology, not about to tell her how badly he’d been scared for her, he moved closer and eyed the contents of the box. “What’s with the box?”

  A long suffering sigh escaped her lips. “A water line burst.” She waved her hand at the pile of bolts in the box. “These are some that didn’t get soaked. I’m trying to get out all that I can and get them upstairs,” she said, waving to a couple of boxes beside the stairs he’d not noticed before.

  The fact that she hadn’t willingly stood him up, breathed new life into his original fears. He really did need to end their arrangement before things reached the point of no return. But he couldn’t just leave her in a mess like this.

  “How many more are there?”

  “About half my inventory.”

  He glanced to the store then to the stairs. “You get the next box loaded and I’ll get this upstairs.”

  He moved to pick up the box, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Jacob, but you don’t have to help. I can do it on my own. Really.”

  “I’m here, so I may as well help,” he said, not pausing to look at her, or to acknowledge the feel of her hand on his arm. Self-preservation drove him. He could not fall in love with her. He couldn’t risk the heartache or the ridicule when she dumped him for someone else. Tonight he would end it.

  He got the few boxes she’d already moved up the stairs to the landing outside her apartment door, then went to help with the rest. It was the first good look he had at the damage.

  He stood with his hands on his hips surveying the mess. “What does Riley say about this?”

  “That he’ll get the store fixed.” She lifted a bolt of fabric from a shelf, ignoring the ones below it, as they were waterlogged.

  “The store. That’s all?”

  She looked at him, her eyes glassy and nodded.

  Her situation settled heavily on his chest. “You don’t have any insurance, do you?”

  “No,” she said
, then cleared her watery throat. “I couldn’t afford it.”

  He took the bolts from her hands. “It’ll be okay. His insurance should cover some of the damages. It was his water line that busted.”

  She looked away, her gaze refusing to meet his. “He isn’t obligated to, and even if he does, it won’t be enough.” Her voice broke, and she spun away, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

  Jacob set aside the fabric and reached out to her, turning her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest and cried, although silently, but her shoulders shook and his shirt grew damp. All he could do was rub her back and hold her until she got it out. None of this was helping his situation, either, but he couldn’t just stand by and watch her cry.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  She sniffled and swiped at her tears as she pulled away. “Well, this isn’t getting anything done.” She cleared her throat and picked up more bolts. “I’ll have to have a fire sale.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “I guess I should call it a water sale, or flood sale.” Her gaze turned to the wreckage. “Or a going out of business sale.”

  “It’s not that bad. Once the plumbing is fixed, you’ll be back in business with plenty of inventory to get things going again.”

  She shook her head with a grin. “I wish it were that simple. Riley said it would take a month to get this straightened out, and until then, I’ve got no income.”

  She turned to the back of the store where another box sat, ready to be filled. “I came here with a big dream, but very little money in my pocket.” She sighed as she stacked the bolts inside. “I thought I could do it, but—well, some unexpected bills caught up with me. Dad’s life insurance policy didn’t cover all of the hospital expenses. I don’t think I’ll have enough to pay them and still get back on my feet. I’ve only been open a few days.”

  “So what are your plans?” he asked, adding some bolts to the box.

  Her hand lingered on the fabric as she cast a sorrow-filled glance around the room. “I don’t know. I guess I could move back to Indiana. Dad’s girlfriend said I could stay with her after he died. I could probably even get my old receptionist job back if I tried hard enough,” she said with an empty laugh.