by Beth Ciotta
“Stop thinking,” he whispered, his breath like licks of flames on her neck. “Feel.” He hooked his arms under her knees, boosted her legs high, and thrust deep.
“Condom,” she squeaked, gripping the last of her sane thoughts. “We forgot—”
“I didn’t forget. I’m quick and you were delirious.”
“Delirious,” she whispered as he suckled on her earlobe and drove into her hard.
“Where do you want it?” he asked, in a throaty rasp.
Her lungs seized. Yes, she’d asked for X-rated, but maybe she wasn’t as adventurous as he. “Where do I want what?”
“Your next orgasm. Where do you want it? Kitchen table? Dining room floor? Tell me now, baby, because I can’t hold out much longer.”
Neither could she. “Here,” she blurted. With a hard shove, she pushed him off of her and onto his back. “Now.” She needed to be in control of something, her emotions had been sucked into a chaotic cyclone. She straddled his impressive column and rode him for all she was worth. He groaned and gripped her hips, uttering graphic orders that had her eyes rolling back in her head. New and exquisite sensations rippled through her body as she experienced her fourth earthshaking climax. He was right behind her, his incredible body bucking beneath her as he found his release.
She collapsed on top of him, sated, pliant, and for the first time in a long time, without a worry in her head. Worrying took energy, and she was sapped. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking his hands lovingly over her back as she fought to catch her breath. “Mmm. Feels good,” she mumbled, her limbs growing heavy as her mind shut down. “Jake?”
“What, baby?”
The endearment wrapped around her heart like a fuzzy blanket, warming her to her soul. “Thank you for fulfilling my fantasy.”
He chuckled, an intoxicating low rumble from deep within, while brushing his fingertips over her bottom. “The weekend isn’t over yet.”
She almost thought he’d said weekend, but that couldn’t be right. She’d only asked for a night. She started to ask him, but then she forgot. Exhaustion claimed her and dreams overrode conscious thinking. In her dreams, she said it first. “I love you.”
The cell phone rang, jogging Jake out of a deep sleep and a wet dream. He lazed open his eyes and glanced at the red numbers on the nightstand’s digital clock.
Five o’clock in the freaking morning.
Couldn’t be Gallow checking in on Afia. He’d told the man he’d be keeping her overnight. Maybe Joni or Carson. The phone continued to ring, and Afia, star of his erotic dream, stirred and moaned something indecipherable as she twisted in his arms. He kissed her forehead, gently disentangled himself, and rolled over to snatch the cell. “Yeah?”
“Sorry to call you so early, Jake. But I’m back in town and I …”
Harmon.
He bolted upright, sheets tangled about his legs, his pole at half-mast.
Afia moaned and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Jake?”
“I’ll call you right back.” He powered off and tossed the cell on the nightstand. “It’s all right, baby. Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?”
Her voice was rusty, and her eyes were barely open. She was only half awake, if that. She looked tousled and adorable, and he wanted to sink deep inside of her and stay there until noon. He did not want to start off his morning getting into it with Harmon Reece when he could be getting off with Afia.
“Get your head out of your pants,” he could hear Gallow saying. Right.
Sleeping beauty pushed a hunk of that damsel hair out of her face and started to roll out of bed. “Have to get to the daycare center … the office. Where’s the jitney stop?”
Why the hell would she take the jitney? He smiled at her gibberish. Grasping her shoulders, he tenderly pressed her back to the bed. She looked good snuggled amongst his pillows, tangled in his comforter, smelling of cinnamon and sex. Like she belonged. In this house. With him. A hundred fantasies exploded in his head. He jerked his gaze from her bare breasts to her sleepy face and forced his mind out of the gutter. “It’s Saturday, honey. The center’s closed. So is the office. You can sleep in.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Tired.”
“I know.” He traced his finger along the delicate curve of her jaw. She’d had a long day yesterday and a hell of a night. Just thinking about the way she’d climaxed again and again sent his blood flowing south. Last night was emblazoned on his mind, especially the part where she’d said, “I love you.”
He wasn’t even sure if she was conscious at that point. He wanted it to be real. Christ, he wanted it to be real. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get a drink of water. Are you thirsty?”
“Yes, please.” She sighed and rolled her face into a pillow. “Scotch, neat.”
He smiled and kissed her shoulder. She moaned and burrowed deeper under the covers. She was wiped. Dead to the world. Good. Meant she wouldn’t tramp down behind him and catch him on the phone with her godfather.
He rolled out of bed with a silent curse and tugged on a pair of boxers. What was he going to tell the man?
Uh, Harmon, you know how you asked me to keep your goddaughter busy? Well, last night we got busy in bed.
I betrayed your trust, Mr. Reece. I screwed you over by screwing your goddaughter over … and over …
Or best of all …
Harmon, while you were away I fell in love with Afia, and, whether you like it or not, I’m going to ask her to marry me.
He was fucked.
He glanced over at the bed at Sleeping Beauty and smiled. She was so worth it. Up until this point he’d been content to live alone. Better alone than risk failing a woman he’d pledged to honor and cherish forever. He was certain his father, an essentially good-hearted man, had never planned to allow his wife and kids to play second best to his career. But instead of recognizing and rectifying his frayed relationships, he’d pulled farther away, unable or unwilling to adjust his priorities. To say that his parents’ marriage had been strained was an understatement. Jake had vowed long ago not to walk in his father’s shoes, yet his desire to battle wrongdoers burned just as strong.
His desire to spend the rest of his life with Afia burned stronger. For her he’d accept the challenge and conquer the odds. Failure was not an option. Commit and stay the course. Respect and honor, rain or shine.
Heart pounding, he palmed the cell and crept out of the bedroom. Roscoe and Barney sat just outside the door. Velma peeked out of the guest bedroom and trotted toward him. Mouser was probably downstairs curled up on the footstool. Scamp was in hiding, and with Afia here, he probably wouldn’t see the skittish cat all day. “Hungry, guys?”
All three cats meowed, trotting after him as he navigated the dark hallway and loped down the stairs. He headed for the kitchen, picking up Mouser along the way. Still no sign of Scamp. He flicked on the kitchen overhead, opened the cupboard and snagged four cans of the gourmet food they loved so much. The stuff that cost a fortune. Thankfully, Joni kept him stocked with coupons, or the finicky cats would eat him into the poorhouse.
Once the gang was fed, he washed his hands, downed an entire glass of water, and then dialed Harmon. “Sorry to cut you off like that.”
“I didn’t realize you had company,” the man said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“Company?”
“I heard a woman’s voice.”
Jake cleared his throat. “Yeah, about that.”
“I don’t care what you do with your nights, boy. It’s your days that I’m calling about. Afia. How is she?”
“Great.” He scraped his hand back and forth over his unshaven jaw, trying to banish images of last night. She’s a she-devil in the sheets. “She has a natural knack for investigative work.”
“Really? Interesting. Well, maybe it will come in useful someday, who knows?”
The lawyer’s flip tone struck a raw nerve. “It’s coming in useful now, Harmo
n. I’m serious. She’s doing a good job.”
“I’m glad. Now I don’t feel quite as guilty about forcing you to take her on.”
Jake leaned back against the counter and crossed his left ankle over his right. “You didn’t force me, you paid me.” Even worse. “I’m off the case, Harmon.”
“What?”
“Afia doesn’t need a babysitter, but I do need an assistant. I’m paying her just as I would Joni, or anyone else.” Although he couldn’t afford to pay her the salary he’d quoted per Harmon. He’d have to figure that one out.
“We had a deal, Jake.”
“Deal’s off.” He’d find another way to help his sister and Carson, assuming they still needed a financial boost. As for his house, it could be a work in progress ‘til the day he died for all he cared. He could live with leaks and warped floorboards. He wasn’t crazy about living without Afia.
Harmon was silent a long moment.
Jake waited. He was a smart man. He’d figure it out.
“That was Afia’s voice,” he said on a sigh.
“Yes, it was.”
“Goddammit, I trusted you, Jake.”
“You can still trust me.” He kept an eye trained on the door, listened for footsteps. “I have her best interest at heart. I’ll protect her from the press. I’ll handle the creditors if they come knocking, and I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble in general. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“What’s going on?” His tone was as direct as the question.
“I could ask the same thing,” Jake said, pushing off of the counter. “What’s up with Kilmore? Has he made any progress?”
“He’s working on it.”
He wrenched open the fridge door and nabbed a carton of pulp-free orange juice. “He’s been working on it for three damned weeks. He has a few more days, and then I’m stepping in.” Adrenaline pumping, he poured a glass of juice.
Meanwhile Harmon cursed a blue streak. “You fell for her didn’t you? Just like Randy. Exactly like Frank.”
The juice turned sour in his mouth. He swallowed hard and tempered his voice. “Don’t lump me in with those two. It’s not the same.”
“It’s exactly the same. It’s her sweet nature, that helpless aura. Makes a man want to save her. Even I’m not immune.”
He couldn’t argue with the damsel-in-distress factor. However … “She can take care of herself if she has to.”
The lawyer snorted.
“You don’t know her, Harmon.”
“I sure as hell know her better than you do.”
Jake set his empty glass in the sink. “I’ll rephrase. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”
“Well, let’s see,” he said, taking on a condescending tone. “So far she’s managed to lose her father, two husbands, and a small fortune.”
Good thing they were on the phone and not face-to-face. He’d never punched a business associate, but the legal eagle had it coming. “That’s low, man.”
“That’s life. Afia’s life anyhow. Have you thought about what you’re getting yourself into?”
He wasn’t thinking, he was feeling, and his gut said he and Afia belonged together. “You don’t believe she’s jinxed anymore than I do.”
Harmon let out a testy grunt. “Listen, Jake, I love my goddaughter deeply. No, I don’t think she’s jinxed, but she does have a way of attracting trouble. Are you ready for that?”
“Bring it on.”
“Christ Almighty, you’ve got it bad, don’t you? All right.” He paused. Swore again. “What are your intentions?”
To love, honor, and cherish until death do us part. “I’d rather discuss it first with Afia.”
“Here’s the thing. I like you, Jake. Always have. But if you break her heart …”
“You’ll hire Murphy to break my legs?” He palmed his brow. “I’m not going to hurt her, Harmon. Just … give us some breathing room, will you?”
“Sure. Fine. At least I know she’s in good hands for the time being. But listen up, son. Next week I’ll be the least of your worries. Giselle will be back in town, and you are not her idea of a son-in-law. Not even close.”
Just the mention of that woman’s name kicked his protective tendencies into overdrive. “I’ll handle Giselle.”
“You’ll be the first,” Harmon said and signed off.
Someone was staring at her. Intently. Afia forced open her heavy eyelids and found herself looking into a pair of yellow eyes. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch. The topaz orbs were downright mesmerizing. Almond-shaped eyes set against a triangular black face. A hairy face with long whiskers. No, not hairy. Fuzzy. Cat. Black cat. Sitting an arm’s length away.
Stunned into awareness, she swallowed a gasp and lay stock-still. She didn’t want to frighten the thing. If he streaked across the bed or ran away she’d suffer ill luck. But if he moved toward her … “Are you a good omen? Or bad?” she whispered. Heart in throat, she carefully touched her bracelet and counted the charms. All there. All eleven including the cat.
It was fanciful to think that this was the same mysterious cat that had saved Jake’s life yesterday. Though she was given to the absurd, there could be a simple explanation. “Are you Scamp?”
No reaction to the name. No mew or angled head. The cat remained aloof and continued to stare.
Afia stared back, paralyzed with apprehension. Are you a good omen? Or bad? If this was Scamp, then he was the skinniest of Jake’s “strays.” No, not skinny … slender, sleek. His coat gleamed like polished ebony, reminding her of an Egyptian statue. “Black cats were sacred in ancient Egypt, you know.” Please don’t run away. Last night she’d followed Rudy’s advice. She’d trusted her heart and seized the day. She’d had wild, pulse-pounding sex with Jake, and this morning she didn’t harbor a single regret. She didn’t feel sluttish. She felt alive. And happy. Truly happy. She wanted to seize another day, and another. She was sick of living in fear.
“You remind me a little of Bast,” she softly told the cat. “Bast was an Egyptian Goddess. Head of a cat, body of a woman. The Goddess of the rising sun, and the moon, and so much more. Enlightenment, sexuality, fertility …”
The cat angled his head, causing her to blink and focus on just one of Bast’s roles. “She was a fierce protector of children and was often invoked by those desiring offspring.” Afia worried her lower lip, a savage longing clawing at her stomach. “Did I invoke you?”
The question was little more than a whisper, and yet the cat responded by taking a tentative step forward, and then another and another …
Afia lay flat on her back, her breath stalled in her lungs as the sleek black feline climbed on top of her and proceeded to knead her stomach with his furry paws. Then he purred, a low comforting drone that had tears of joy springing to her eyes.
“I’ll be damned.”
Afia rolled her head to the side and saw Jake standing in the doorway holding two crystal tumblers. He was quite the early morning delight. Disheveled, unshaven, and half-naked. She imagined personal trainers everywhere paying homage to his corded upper body. She certainly appreciated the result of his obvious hard work. Blushing, she turned back to the cat. “Please don’t scare him away.”
“Sweetheart, Scamp’s not afraid of me.” He moved inside and set the tumblers on the nightstand. “He’s leery of women.” He climbed back into bed and regarded her with a cocked eyebrow. “Most women anyhow. I guess he sensed what I know.”
“What’s that?” she asked, reveling in his masculine aura and the feel of Scamp’s busy paws.
Jake stroked the cat, but his eyes were on her, warm and caring. “That you’re special.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things,” she rasped, “but never special.” Scamp padded off of her lap and curled up at the bottom of the bed near her feet. Like a protective Goddess. The Goddess of pleasure and joy. Fertility and birth.
“Two or three kids would be nice,” Jake had said.
; Afia’s eyes burned, and her throat felt raw. She tried to get a grip on her chaotic feelings while pushing herself up on her elbows. “Could I have a drink, please?”
“Water or orange juice?” he asked, studying her with wary eyes.
“Water, please.”
He handed her one of the tumblers. She drank deeply, sighed and, passed it back. “Thank you.”
He set aside the glass and then turned back and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Regrets?”
Concern and sincere affection burned in his eyes, quickening her pulse. She settled back against the plethora of pillows and smiled, basking in his tender regard. “No regrets.” If Scamp and her racing heart were any indication, she’d made the right choice. “You?”
“Oh, yeah.” He skimmed his finger down the hollow of her throat and over her collarbone. “Last night was torture.” He palmed her breast, leaned down and suckled.
Desire rippled through her body as he feasted on her nipples, making her wanton and bold. Then her mind tripped up her pleasure. She wondered where they were going with this. A fling? An affair? A relationship? Where did the babies fit in?
Don’t think, feel.
“Speaking of torture …” A wicked smile curled her lips as she put her hands on Jake’s shoulders and pressed him back on the bed. “I owe you.”
He smiled up at her, a naughty twinkle in his eye. “Bring it on.”
“Stop second-guessing yourself, Bunny.”
Rudy adjusted the sheet over his lower half and lolled his head to the left. Jean-Pierre lay on his side, head propped in his hand, looking better than any man had a right to on two hours of sleep, if that. “I’m not second-guessing myself.” He’d taken his own advice, trusted his heart, and seized the day. Or rather the Frenchman. When Jean-Pierre had dragged through the door after one in the morning, exhausted and bitchy because one of the dancers had just informed him that she was pregnant, Rudy had taken pity on the man.