Craving Heat

by Adrienne Giordano

  Good Christ, had it all been worth it? All that work and the one person he actually wanted to trust him, had doubts.

  He let out a laugh. Gave in to whatever kind of pain this was. “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  He turned away from the window. “Do it. Bring in your expert. Hell, bring in a truckload. If it’ll prove I’m not lying to you, I’ll pay for it.” He had to get out of here. Get control of himself again. He walked to the door, swung it open, intent on marching out. Except, he stopped. Paused to look at her. “I’ll do one better. I’ll have my accountant audit my books. He’ll show you every dime. Then we’ll have the proof. Will that be enough for you, Maggie?”

  He left. Strode right through the door, leaving her and her lack of faith behind.

  * * *

  At 7:00, Maggie walked through her front door and punched in the alarm code to stop the incessant beeping. Her already pounding head didn’t need that aggravation. Grandma’s hand-carved drum table sat wedged in the corner by the door and Maggie set her bundle of junk mail on it. As a kid, she’d sit at the table and play solitaire or set up her toy cash register with stacks of canned and packaged goods that Gram would buy. Hours and hours of play had been had there, all of them with her ever-patient grandmother who shared stories of a lonely childhood and a girl’s ability to be strong yet feminine. No wonder Mom was a corporate beast. When Gram passed, Maggie’s broken heart healed a wee bit when she inherited the table. Gram’s final gift to her.

  She kept it near the front door so she’d see it every day and think of Gram. Currently, two days’ worth of mail she should open sat on it, but it had to wait. Her raging headache took priority. It hit hard ten minutes after Jay implied doing her damned job and gathering proof of his innocence meant she didn’t trust him.

  Had to love it when people asked for help and then got pissed at her methods. Whatever. This would be why she had no room for men in her life. She slid off her uniform jacket, hung it on the coat rack beside the table, then yanked off her work boots and socks. She kicked the boots aside and shoved her socks into her pants pockets.

  Stupid men. What did she even need one for?

  Maybe she’d get a dog instead. Unconditional love right there. Dogs took work, though, and she didn’t have that kind of time. Unless Reid would provide day care and let the pup hang at the training center. That might work. Plus, he’d keep a dog in shape by letting him run along the property.

  Mulling over the benefits of large breeds, she yanked her shirt from the waistband of her pants and strode the short hallway to her bedroom where she threw her dirty socks in the hamper by the door. If her head didn’t hurt so much, she might go for a quick run. Or call Reid and have him meet her at the obstacle course for a nighttime try at smashing his record. She had enough anger tonight to make it happen.

  By the time she reached her closet, she’d unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the drab T-shirt underneath. Really, she needed to update their uniforms. Maybe switch it up and go for navy rather than bland khaki.

  The doorbell rang and she stepped back from the closet, head cocked. Only salespeople rang her bell. Family and friends knocked. Or, as Riley had done the other night, let themselves in because God forbid she might be doing something her family shouldn’t see.

  What if she’d been standing naked in the hallway when someone barged in?

  Or, perhaps, crazy as this might be, having sweaty, multi-orgasmic sex with a hunky football star?

  Boundaries. Isn’t that what Jay—that pain in the ass—told her? If she wanted people to respect her privacy, she’d have to tell them.

  Bam, bam, bam. Whoever was at her door, wasn’t going away. Damned salespeople. Still wearing her gun belt—that’ll get rid of ’em—she made her way to the front door and checked the peephole. On the other side stood none other than the hunky superstar who’d given her the god-awful headache. Plus, he looked insanely hot in a T-shirt that stretched tight over his shoulders. The rest probably looked damn good, too, but only so much could be witnessed via a peephole.

  Too bad she was still pissed at him for leaving her office before she gave him a piece of her mind.

  “Maggie,” he said through the door. “I saw you walk in. Open up.”

  Gladly. She flipped the lock and ripped the door open. “Don’t you ever walk out on me in the middle of a discussion. Who the hell do you—”

  “—I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”

  “—think you are?”

  Wait. What?

  Asshole. Well, true that.

  But the apology. Dammit! The man gets her all wound up and then has the nerve to apologize before she can even unload on him. Totally unfair.

  She spun away, leaving the door open. “You. Suck. You really do.” She moved into the kitchen, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I’m all ready to let you have it and you go and take responsibility. The least you could do is let me yell for a second. Get rid of all this”—she flapped her arms—“frustration.”

  She may have heard him laugh. If he did, she might shoot him. Right there on her doorstep.

  “Can I come in?”

  She opened the refrigerator, grabbed two beers, and dropped them on the counter. “The door is open, isn’t it?”

  Cautiously—smart man—he stepped in, closing and locking the door behind him. “You’re still wearing your gun.” He flashed his magazine-cover smile. “I was afraid to move.”

  “Save the smile, charm boy. I’m mad at you.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I was working the problem. We have a crime. With that crime, we have evidence. Proving your innocence starts with eliminating the endorsed checks. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe you.” She popped the top on one of the beers. “Do you want one?”

  “I want twelve.”

  “I have six. You’ll have to make do and share.”

  Across the breakfast bar, she handed him the beer. Their fingers brushed on the exchange, sending a shock of heat zooming up her arm. Damn that, too. Ooh, she wanted to just stay mad at him.

  Unfortunately for her, being pissed off created a need for release. And the way her body melted every time Jay Tucker came within a thousand feet, that need for release manifested itself in ways it shouldn’t.

  Ways that required him naked and in her bed. Because, lawdy, it had been awhile since she’d had some good, old-fashioned nookie.

  And with a man who looked like Jay? Between the face and his body? Total no-brainer. She slugged a gulp of beer. So, she was female. Sue her.

  “Maggie, look. I’ve been stewing over this all day. I lost my head. I am sorry.”

  Bastard.

  Already she sensed herself weakening. I’m such a sucker. Or maybe she’d simply made peace with her inability to hold grudges. It made more sense to relieve herself of that burden.

  She came around the breakfast bar, meeting him on the other side. “I accept your apology. But, clearly, we had a miscommunication. You walking out doesn’t tell me why we had that miscommunication. I always need the why, Jay, or whatever this is between us has no chance.”

  “You’re right. I realize that now. I was caught up. I’d confided in you about my mother. That took a lot. I trusted you.”

  “And you thought my suggesting a handwriting expert violated that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you’re an idiot as well as quick-tempered.”

  He smiled. “I guess so.”

  “Damn you.”

  “I know. It’s a curse.” He hooked one finger into the waist of her uniform pants and tugged her closer. So close she felt his warm breath against her neck.

  He dipped his head and her pounding headache gave her a reprieve. After the day she’d had, if those luscious lips touched her right now, in her house, where the quiet let her think about all the things missing in her life, game over.

  She stiffened for a split second, prepping herself as he drew closer and…did it. Kissed her. His
warm lips touched her skin in that spot where the base of her neck met her shoulder and, oh, that was nice. Better than nice. Enormously nice in a completely over-the-top way that made her breasts tingle and her core light up like Christmas and the fourth of July all at once.

  She tilted her head, giving him full access. Total pushover, that’s what she was. In her own defense, it had been over a year since she’d had sex. And even then it had been a complete snooze-fest. The basic let’s just get to the orgasms sex that didn’t leave her in a terrible rush to do it again.

  With Jay? Something told her she’d want to do it again.

  And again.

  He dotted more kisses down her neck. “Forgive me?”

  Too smooth, this one. “If I hadn’t forgiven you, you wouldn’t be this close to me.”

  “Excellent,” he said.

  Smooth might do her some good.

  She arched in, pressing her body against his, dragging her hands up and through his short hair. He brought his arms around her and gripped her ass and—hello, there—his erection pressed against her.

  “Wow,” she said, half gasping.

  “Un-hunh. What are my chances of getting you out of this uniform?”

  “Keep doing that thing to my neck and I’d say your odds are improving.”

  He brought his hands back around, pulling her shirt from her pants and his slightly calloused fingers brushed her skin, sending a zip shooting straight to her nipples. She wanted those fingers everywhere.

  He broke the contact, moving to the button on her pants.

  “I can do it,” she said.

  “Not a chance. I’m stripping you out of this uniform. Piece by piece.”

  Gently, he nipped at her neck, tugging the skin just enough to heat her up another thousand degrees.

  “You’re going to undress me? Everything?”

  “If it’s okay, yeah. It’s one of several fantasies.”

  If that didn’t shock her, not much would. She rolled her eyes. “The charm. It’s almost too much to bear.”

  “It’s not...” He locked his gaze on hers. “I think about you—like this—a lot. About peeling off the uniform and seeing what’s underneath. I want you, Maggie.”

  Before she could speak, he lifted the drab brown T-shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere in the vicinity of her couch.

  That morning, considering it a day like any other, she’d slipped on her normal sports bra. When had she become such a creature of habit and gone for the comfort? Then again, who knew she’d be entertaining Jayson.

  She swallowed her humiliation. “The sports bra is good for work.”

  Ach. Really? Did she just say that?

  He leaned in, dotted kisses along her shoulder and down her collarbone. He hooked his fingers under the bra to the bottom of her breasts and ignited another shot of heat.

  His fingers moved to her back and worked the hook on her bra. Then it was gone and she stood there, bare-breasted with her uniform pants and gun belt still on.

  He let out a long breath. “Jesus. You’re stunning.”

  “I think you’re horny.”

  “I am, but it’s not influencing my opinion. From the second I saw you shredding that obstacle course, I knew I wanted you. You’re amazing.”

  He unhooked the buckle on her gun belt and brought his lips to the rise of her breast. God, God, God, the man.

  She let out a small moan. “The belt. Don’t let it drop.”

  Regrettably, he backed away, holding the belt up. “I’ll let you take care of it.”

  About to self-combust, she set it on the breakfast bar, but before she let go he spun her back to him. “Bedroom,” he said. “If we’re doing this, I want it done right. Not like a couple of horny teenagers trying not to get caught.”

  She brought the gun belt with her and he trailed behind her, the tips of his fingers lightly moving down her back as they walked. In the bedroom she set the gun belt on the dresser and turned, grabbed hold of him, and mashed herself against him.

  “You’ve got me,” she said. “I’m here. Whatever this fantasy is, get it moving because I’m ready for you and I’m not in the mood to wait.”

  He picked her up, tossed her on the bed, let her watch as he peeled his shirt off. The muscles, the rock-hard body of an athlete, all for her to feast on.

  He kicked out of his shoes and peeled his socks off. Then his pants and boxers were gone and his erection sprang free. Mine, mine, mine. She sat up, ran her fingers over his hips, up his torso to his pecs, all of it hard, sculpted muscle.

  He moved over her, forcing her back against the mattress and eased beside her, propping one hand under his head as his free hand explored her body.

  Rather than embarrass herself with her lack of sexy underwear, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pants and her cotton briefs and removed everything at once.

  Efficiency. Always.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got, Superstar.”

  12

  He’d show her. He’d show her all night long if she’d let him.

  She reached down, wrapped her fingers around his monster of a hard-on, and he dropped to his back on the bed while she had her way with him.

  Who was showing who?

  But, damn, his fantasy had taken on a new element. Maggie. Next to him. Breasts against his bare skin. Bringing him to a climax with only her hand.

  He opened his eyes, found her grinning down at him. “What are you thinking about, Jay?”

  “You.”

  “Do tell.”

  That did it. He sat up, shoved her to her back, and straddled her. “Are you a talker, Maggie?”

  “Sometimes.” She ran her palms over his pecs and back down. “Sometimes, like now, I know what I want. Which would be you. Inside me.”

  He leaned down, kissed her hard with plenty of tongue that she seemed to like.

  Condom.

  He pulled back. “Uh, sorry to interrupt this but, I, uh…”

  “Condom,” she said. “Do you have one?”

  “We are of the same mind.” He eased off of her, reached for his wallet still tucked into his pants pocket, and took care of business while Maggie slid her mile-long leg along his back, all that soft skin waiting for him.

  Holy shit. He’d screw her blind if she wanted. He’d do just about anything Maggie Kingston wanted.

  Small-town girls. Go figure.

  Condom in place, he came back to her, running his hand up her leg, then wedging himself between them. Maybe he’d play a little.

  Except, Maggie locked her legs around his waist and arched up, apparently ready for him. “It’s been a long few days,” she said. “Sometimes I talk, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I want hard, fast sex. Sometimes I don’t.”

  “And now?”

  “Hard and fast.”

  He slammed himself inside her and she cried out—yow, that was too rough.

  He stopped, held his breath, prayed she didn’t push him off and kick him the hell out. When she thrust her hips, he opened his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. I’ll tell you if you do.”

  She arched against him, urging him on and they found their rhythm, two people figuring it out, moving together, pushing each other. He drew back, entered her again and again, each thrust building on the last until the two of them were damned near off the side of the bed, but Maggie stayed with him, gripping his shoulders, digging her fingers in.

  “God, please, keep going. Don’t…stop.”

  Not in this lifetime.

  His orgasm built, each thrust pushing him closer and closer to that edge, but he held on. Wanted her to go first so he could see it. The buttoned-up sheriff coming unglued under him. But…

  “Maggie, I’m gonna…”

  “Don’t stop! I’ll kill you if you stop!”

  He met her gaze and the two of them burst out laughing. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.

  She bucked her hips and he closed his eyes because…can’t do it. The explo
sion hit him hard, making his body quake as he pumped and pumped and pumped himself into her and on that last thrust, she dug her fingers in, her short nails pricking his skin and driving his orgasm to another level as her body stiffened.

  She let out another cry and bucked under him one last time before the two of them collapsed into the bed with Jay on top.

  “Well,” he said, “holy fucking workout.”

  “Jayson Tucker,” she said, “where have you been all my life?”

  * * *

  After an early morning text from Jay that Reid had gone into town, Maggie cruised through the gate at Tupelo Hill and pulled into the training center parking lot. If she timed this right, she could do a couple of training runs on the obstacle course and be on her way home for a quick shower before 8:30.

  She hopped out, entered the building, and found Gage coming from the gym looking, as Micki liked to call him, all Captain America in workout shorts and a T-shirt saturated with sweat. Unlike Reid’s, Gage’s body was more long, lean muscle and his short blond hair reinforced the whole Captain America moniker.

  “Hey.” He dabbed his workout towel over his face. “You missed Reid.”

  “I know. Not here for him. I’m practicing on the obstacle course. I will beat his time.”

  “I love it. You need me to time you?”

  “Nope. I recruited Jay to help me.”

  At that, Gage cracked up. “Nice.”

  “Reid’s always reminding us all how he holds the record. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “You’ll have the course to yourself. He’s meeting with the zoning commissioner and if it’s like any of the past meetings, he’ll be gone awhile.”

  “Excellent.” They exchanged a high five and she made her way to the back door with a little skip in her step. Why not? After last night with Jay, she felt…lighter. Energized. And, hopefully there would be more nights like that.

  Swinging through the back door leading outside, she found her man—her man?—standing next to the picnic table where Reid liked to sit and bark orders. That damned table was so familiar Maggie considered it a close personal friend.