Believe in Me: Unbelievable, Book 2

by Crystal Jordan

  He leaned back just enough to peel her shirt off, unsnap her bra and fling the soft cotton garments away. His big hands cupped her breasts, lifting them for his mouth. Her breath tangled in her throat as anticipation sliced through her. God, but she wanted his mouth on her. She arched her back in offering. He grinned, flicking his tongue out to wet each tight nipple. “I have to say, women’s underwear is a hell of a lot easier to get rid of now than it was back then.”

  Her laugh sounded more like a needy whimper. “You’re telling me. You never had to wear a damn corset.”

  “Thank God for that.” And then he took her nipple in his mouth to suckle, and a deep moan burst from her. Sheer pleasure arced from her breast to her loins, and her pussy clenched hard around his cock. He groaned, setting his teeth into her nipple in response. She squealed, a fresh tide of wetness flooding her sex. Her hands lifted to his shoulders, her nails digging in deep, raking down his flesh. He grunted, swirling his tongue around and around her nipple before he shoved it hard against the roof of his mouth.

  A low cry was the only articulation she could give to the heat, the need, the desperation exploding within her. Her thighs cinched on his waist as she tried to pull him deeper, squeezing him with her inner muscles, milking him until he shuddered and finally, finally began moving inside her. Her hips undulated beneath him, their harsh breathing, soft groans and slapping flesh the only sounds in the room. The scents of sweat and sex perfumed the air, a drugging aphrodisiac that made her burn.

  She closed her eyes to savor how amazing it felt to have him over her and in her again, his heavy weight pressing her into a soft bed, his wide cock making her body work to accommodate him. It was pleasure and it was pain and it was exactly what she craved. An addict getting her fix after so many sober years on the bandwagon. He ground his hips against her clit, and she sobbed, digging her heels into the backs of his muscular thighs.

  “Look at me, Tori,” he demanded. “I want to watch you come.”

  She obeyed and was snared by his silver gaze. She had no idea what he saw in her face, but triumph and possession and a myriad of other emotions she couldn’t name blazed across his expression. Her movement faltered, some belated caution rising to the surface of her consciousness.

  “Nuh-uh. None of that.” His eyes narrowed, and his fingers slid between them to flick over her clit again and again until she strained upward and danced on the ragged edge of orgasm. Still, she couldn’t look away from him. The dark flush running under his tanned skin, the kiss-swollen lips, the gleam of desperate hunger in his gaze. It was the desperation that captivated her. Jericho had never worn such a look before, not once. Lust, fury, greed—yes. Soul-deep desperation—no.

  She wanted it to mean something, wanted it so badly, it shamed her, made tears well in her eyes and streak unchecked down her cheeks. His palms rose to frame her face, and he nuzzled and licked her tears away. When he kissed her, she tasted the salty moisture on his lips. The gentle reverence of the kiss was such a wild contrast to the roughness of his thrusting cock that it made her sob into his mouth, made her hotter and wetter, her inner flesh clinging to him. He angled his hips, slamming deeper, harder and it sent her flying.

  Her pussy clenched in rhythmic spasms that went on forever, dragged her under until she had no sense of time or space. There was only Jericho’s hands and mouth and muscular body driving her beyond sanity and into pure sensation. Every heavy thrust sent another orgasm screaming through her, made her throb around him. Tingles broke down her arms and legs, shivers she couldn’t control wracking her.

  “Tori, I—” His words broke off in a low groan as she came again, her thighs tightening on his flanks, her pussy wringing his cock. He shuddered and jetted deep inside her, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth. “Oh, God, Vitoria. My Tori.”

  He sank down on her, his heavy weight crushing her into the mattress. Sweat sealed their bodies together, and she could barely drag air into her overtaxed lungs. Her muscles went slowly limp, still shaking in the aftermath. Her legs fell to the quilt, and she sighed. He grunted, heaving himself to the side so she could breathe again. He hooked an arm around her hips and dragged her back against him. Within minutes, his breathing leveled out into that of deep slumber. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts hazy, and she felt hollowed out by what had happened, what she’d never thought would happen again.

  What should never have happened again. Reality returned in an awful rush, her gut clenching as nausea burned away the lingering tendrils of contentment that wound through her. Jesus, what had she done? Was she insane? Did she have some kind of crazy need to commit emotional suicide?

  Tears burned in her eyes as she turned away from him, curled into herself, and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a harsh sob. It caught in her throat, threatening to strangle her. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d just rolled right over and spread her legs for him, like nothing bad had ever happened between them, like he’d never betrayed her. He was her soul mate, and she had no defenses against him. With him, she was so fucking weak. Pathetic. Needy. A huge failure. Just as she’d always been.

  No wonder he’d turned to another woman.

  Chapter Four

  He was already inside her when she woke up, the first rays of dawn flickering through her window. She arched, her body already hot and slick and more than ready for whatever he wanted. His arms were wrapped tight around her torso, her back to his front, and he rocked against her in infinitesimal strokes that only aroused her more.

  “Good morning.” His sleep-roughened voice slid over her nerves like velvet. His big palm slipped down to spread across her lower belly, pressing her deeper into his thrusts. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Mmm…” A more articulate answer was beyond her. No, she hadn’t slept well, but at the moment, she didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to fuck her harder, faster, until the only thing she could think about was the mindless drive to orgasm. A deep pang passed through her as she realized she wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell him to stop. She wanted him too badly. She clenched her jaw tight as her need to protect herself warred briefly with her need for his touch, for connection, for pleasure. Swallowing back a hopeless, helpless moan, she gave in to the ecstasy he offered. Later was soon enough to kick her own ass for her weakness, her stupidity, her failure. Her hand wrapped around his imprisoning forearm, her nails digging in as she sought the freedom to move.

  Ignoring her wordless demand, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive tendon that connected her neck and shoulder. She shivered, her nipples tightening in reflex. He noticed—of course he noticed, Jericho had never missed the merest hint of response from her—and his other palm moved to fondle her breasts, his fingertips whispering over her flesh. Just the way she liked it. How had he remembered after all this time? She gasped, her head falling back on his shoulder, her torso bowing outward as she struggled against his superior strength.

  It was almost as good as when he tied her down to sex her up.

  Just the thought was enough to fan the flames of her excitement, to make her wetter.

  As if he’d read her mind, a chuckle vibrated through his broad chest. “Not this time, darlin’, but soon I’m going to tie you to this bed. That fancy wrought-iron headboard will do just fine for what I have in mind.”

  Oh, God, it would. She tried not to imagine it, and failed. Molten lava pumped through her veins, sped by her racing heart. Jericho bit her neck lightly and the unexpected sting made her cry out. She rocked her hips back, trying to take him deeper, to push him into going faster. Reaching back, she clamped a hand on the muscular globe of his ass, her nails gouging deep. “Now, Jericho.”

  “Yes,” he gritted between clenched teeth. His hips bucked, and finally he gave her the hard penetration she craved.

  The smack of his skin against hers, the hard impact of his belly on her backside, echoed in her bedroom. The bedsprings squeaked underneath them, the antique bed frame creaked. Their low groans an
d soft cries added layer upon layer to the carnal symphony they played together. Sweat dampened her skin, and her muscles strained as she pushed herself harder. More. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

  He slipped his fingers down between her legs, rubbing her clit in time with his strokes, letting his movements drive her harder against his fingertips to increase the already unbearable friction. She was wet, hot. Her pussy clenched once, and he made a rough sound of pure pleasure that turned her inside out, it was so good. The way his cock filled her was perfect. It always had been, it always would be. She blinked back the sting of tears and clutched his arm, held tight to the moment she was in.

  Shudders began building deep inside her, orgasm rising high and hot to claim her. She held it off, wanting to stay right here where everything felt good and right and perfect. Clenching her inner muscles did nothing to aid her, and a sob of despair slid from her. Too soon. It was ending far too soon.

  “Shh, shh, darlin’.” His voice soothed and aroused, stroked over her as effectively as a caress. His free hand lifted to toy with her breasts, to pluck and twist her nipples until she bit her lip against another sob. “Trust me—I’ll give you what you need.”

  No, he wouldn’t. She knew that, knew it all the way down to her soul, and it ripped at her, an agonizing pain that made her scream. Then he lunged deep within her, deeper than he’d been before, and the scream changed as she shattered. Her body exploded with an ecstasy that consumed every piece of her. She convulsed in his arms, her pussy flexing on his cock in rhythmic waves that dragged him down into the whirlpool with her.

  “Tori, Tori, Tori.” His come flooded her, and they rocked together, savoring every single moment of the fiery pleasure they generated together.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. Agony and ecstasy pulsed through her in equal measures that could only be defined by one whispered word—“Jericho.”

  There was nothing else to say.

  The morning was wonderful.

  Jericho dragged her out of bed after their pre-dawn mattress romp and coaxed her into getting coffee from the best shop in town, Bean There, Done That. The little café was owned by his last client, Aubrey, so Tori went in to buy the liquid ambrosia alone, but then they meandered through the park and down a few quiet side streets—not talking…just being. It was nice. She liked it way too much and it sent a sick little twist through her stomach. She swallowed the mouthful of latte she had before she choked on it.

  His eyes were pure mercury when he glanced down at her. “My apartment is just over there.” He tilted his head to indicate a pretty three-story converted Victorian across the street from where they were standing. “We still have hours before we need to be at work. Let me make you breakfast.”

  That wasn’t all he wanted to make.

  Bleakness flooded her soul. She couldn’t tell him no. She didn’t even want to. Even if it was for her own good. “Okay.”

  She followed him into the building and up the stairs, knowing it was a mistake, knowing she was going to get hurt, knowing that the only way to protect herself was to set the ground rules. As far as he’d ever know, she felt the same way he did, the same way he had felt from their first meeting. This was just sex, a good lay, a great fuck. There was no lovemaking, just hot, wild, lusty sex. If they didn’t drag her battered heart into the equation, if they focused on the physical, and on the present, she might survive this.

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she could die again, was it? She’d already given everything she had. Body, heart, soul, life. Everything. And still she had failed.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped into his apartment. She wouldn’t fail again. She was stronger than she had been, and she had a hell of a lot more experience. A hundred plus years on Earth would do that to a person. She wasn’t the naïve, sheltered girl she had been. She could survive this. She could survive Jericho, she could survive losing this connection again, she could and would do her job and walk away. She’d done it before, and while things were more complicated this time, it didn’t mean she couldn’t do it again.

  Until it was time to leave, she was going to indulge herself in the sexiest man she’d ever known. She knew herself well enough to know she had no choice, so she wasn’t going to fight it. The past was beyond her control, but the present and the future were hers to shape. Even angels had some free will, and she was going to exercise it.

  Jericho shut the door and flipped the lock. The place was homier than she’d expected. The furnishings were comfortable and a little worn around the edges, heavy dark wood that was a direct contrast to the light beach house wicker at her cottage. It was very much Jericho, and nothing like the overtly gay man he was playing for this assignment. His inner sanctum. She slid her hands in her pockets and chuckled. They turned to each other, and she opened her mouth to tease him about it when he cupped her face between his big palms. The expression he wore was serious, but light glinted in his eyes. Her breath tangled in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed, tried to grin and break the sudden tension of the moment. He stroked a thumb over her lower lip, and her smile died before it fully formed.

  Bending forward, he brushed his mouth over hers. The kiss was infinitely tender, underscored by the passion that always blazed between them. She hummed in her throat and let herself melt against him. Her breasts flattened against the wall of muscle that made up his broad chest. Flicking her tongue out to lick his lips, she parted them and found her way inside his mouth, reveling in the taste of him. Sweet, rich honey. She moaned, wriggling to get closer, twining her fingers in the rough silk of his hair.

  Rising on tiptoe, she fitted her sex against his cock, writhing against him like a cat in heat, rubbing her breasts against his chest to stimulate her nipples. Her heart pumped her blood wild and fast through her veins, the scent of him, the flavor of him, the sheer size and heat of him made her pussy go slick, the folds plumping as her body readied itself for sex. Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging as her need spiked. She bit his lower lip, sucking it between her teeth.

  He groaned and pulled away, searched her face, gave a little smile, and then planted a few more soft, warm kisses on her lips. “I told myself I was going to talk to you, not dive on you the moment the door shut, but you just have to look at me and my control goes haywire.” He trailed his fingertips across her jaw. “We need to talk. About us. What we’re doing, where we’re going. And especially where we’ve been. I have a lot—”

  “No.” She jerked back, stepping outside of his arm’s reach, moving away until her legs pressed against his big dining room table. It hurt to deny herself contact with him, but she had some self-preservation left. Pulling in a deep breath to calm her racing heartbeat, she forced herself to recall the gut-wrenching moment when she’d walked into a saloon to find him sharing a bed with a whore. Sure, they’d argued, he’d dumped her back off in her brother’s camp, but really? That was all his soul mate had meant to him? A convenient lay? Less than a day after they’d parted, and he’d paid to fuck another woman. The memory was a splash of cold water on her overheating hormones, a stab of utter agony to her heart. She narrowed her eyes at him, her shaking fists clenched at her sides. “You want this thing between us, that’s fine, but the deal is we do not talk about the past. At all. Ever. It didn’t happen.”

  “It did happen.” Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes, and she saw rage burn in his gaze, but he banked the emotion, and his voice was almost even when he spoke. “Just trust me for once and listen to what—”

  “No.” She shook her head and folded her arms protectively over her chest. “Not just no, but hell no. You want to keep getting hot and heavy with me while we’re working together on this assignment, then we don’t talk about anything that went on before now. That’s over. We already failed the test. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She met his eyes, refusing to back down. She’d already had to piece together a broken heart once before, and she doubted it could stand a se
cond round. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it.” He jerked her against him, and the fury he no longer tried to control made his eyes an incandescent silver. “Let’s start now.”

  His mouth slammed down over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth to demand a response from her. She gave it, matching his demands with her own. They fought for control of the kiss, biting, sucking and nipping at each other until their skin was hot to the touch, burning up. Their breathing was nothing but harsh rasps, and they groaned into each other’s mouth. She tasted blood, but didn’t know if it was his or hers. It didn’t matter, the copper tang of it drove her excitement to a primitive, carnal place.

  They came together with the same speed and urgency of the night before, but instead of desperation, this was a furious claiming. All the building anger, pain and desire they couldn’t deny exploded between them. She grabbed the front of his shirt and ripped it open, the buttons scattering in every direction. Then her hands were on his chest, thumbing his flat little nipples. He groaned, broke the kiss and wrenched her shirt over her head. Her bra shredded under the same treatment, but his mouth was on her breasts, sucking her hard, making her back bow as pleasure speared straight to her pussy. Her inner walls clenched on nothingness, and she shuddered.

  He bit her nipple, batted it with his tongue and bit her again. She gritted her teeth on a scream. Her fingers fisted in his hair, twisting until he grunted at the pain. “Fuck me, Jericho.”

  “Whatever you want, darlin’.” The words were harsh with sarcasm, strained with unsated lust.

  Grabbing her shoulders, he spun her around and forced her to bend over the table. His hands jerked open her pants and shoved them and her panties down her legs. She kicked them aside, her heart pounding as she heard the clink of his belt buckle, the rasp of his zipper, and then he crowded between her thighs. His cock was like a thick, hot pipe pressing against her buttocks, sliding into the crevice. His arms wrapped around her torso, one hand moving down to shove into her sex. She bucked against him, but it did nothing to dislodge him. She was caught, trapped, and it made the flames licking through her even hotter.