Jenny leaned into his embrace. He dropped a hand from her hair and wrapped it around her back, pulling her close to his chest, into his lap. Exactly where she wanted to be.
He ate at her mouth, lust pouring between them. He was all-powerful, all-consuming. He groaned against their lip lock. “God, Jenny.”
Her legs straddled his thighs, and she rocked her hips, flexing over him. His hand still buried in her hair knotted and tugged, exposing her neck. His teeth dragged over her bottom lip and scraped down her neck.
“Yes.” His teeth rasped again, and she arched into his strong embrace. “Please, Ash. Please.”
Please what? It didn’t matter, whatever he’d give her, she would give back. Jenny wouldn’t hide from him.
He suckled down to her collarbone. Harsh and surprising. The more he kissed, the more she needed. Pent-up frustration multiplied. Wild want pulsed between her legs. She was wet. He was erect. They still had their clothes on, and nothing about this first kiss said it was ending anytime soon.
“God, sweetheart, nothing better than you.”
Red-hot in his arms, Jenny grasped at him, wrapping her arms around his impossibly broad shoulders. He picked her up and swept her down. Her back was on the couch, and he loomed over her then dropped down with a mind-bending kiss, pressing his weight between her thighs. One leg stayed pinned between him and the back of the couch, the other snaked up his strong, lean muscles.
She opened her eyes, skipping her hands into his hair. He leaned to the side and tore at her shirt, pushing it up her stomach, over her bra, and locked his mouth around her nipple.
“I love that.” Intense pleasure-pain roared through her as he plucked and sucked. “I love…” You. She always had. But that wasn’t for him to know. No reason to ruin this.
He pulled the other bra cup down and covered her breast with his palm. His massaging fingers were better than she’d imagined, and as he rolled his tongue over one tip and his thumb and forefinger over the other, she couldn’t feel anything other than the ecstasy rolling from his touch, moving lower, lower, lower, all the way to her craving canal.
“Keep moaning like that, and we’ll never make it into your bed.” His light-colored eyes had darkened. Their shocking intensity made him look possessive, carnal—
A loud rap on the door froze Jenny into place with her hands gripping his shirt. They stopped. Their uneven breaths and heaving chests mirrored one another, and his head dropped, placing one languid kiss over the breast he’d been deeply sucking.
Asher pulled her shirt down. “Change in shifts. New agent. They’ll need to check in with me.”
He sat up as another rap echoed on the door and ran a hand over his face. Jenny pulled her legs back, flushed and dizzy, then scooted back on the couch, staring at him. What to say?
A third knock banged through the apartment, and Molly walked down the hall. “Jeez, isn’t anyone going to—” She did a double take, and Jenny knew they were so busted. “Never mind. I got it.”
Asher stood up. “No. Hang on. You’re not answering the door when there’s a lunatic out there.” He walked to the front door, looked out the peephole, and answered.
Molly mouthed, “Oh my God,” and pointed at her brother then Jenny.
Cheeks flaming from arousal and awareness, she shrugged, pulling the blanket over her. She mouthed back, “Go away.”
Asher walked in with the agent and made introductions. The congressman was back; whoever the man on the couch was had been shelved. They finished small talk, and the agent moved to his post. Asher shut and locked the door, turned, eyeing both her and a giggling Molly. Very mature, Molls.
The hot and heavy moment was so gone, and they’d been so obvious, she had to laugh too. Even Asher-the-Congressman chuckled, and Jenny pulled the blanket over her head. “Go away, Molly.”
Molly stopped giggling and whistled as she walked out of the living room. “Scandalous.”
Still under the blanket, she heard Asher walk across the room and felt the cushion dip when he sat down. “You okay under there?”
“I feel like I’m fifteen and just got caught making out with the captain of the football team.”
“Nope, just your best friend’s older brother. Can’t wait for the Molly McIntyre inquisition.” He tugged the blanket off her head. “You’re gorgeous and cute. Not a bad mix.” Then he tossed the blanket back on her head. “Feel free to come out if you’re hungry for cold pizza.”
Well, she was hungry and would have to come out eventually anyway. She let the blanket fall.
“That was fast.” He turned the lamp off and the television on, snagged her arm, and pulled her against him. Just like that, he was relaxed again and holding her.
She didn’t get it. Not that she wanted to complain, but why now? “Ash?”
He took a bite of pizza. “So what’s your audition for?”
She reached over for a piece of pizza, grabbed a copy of the script that’d been buried under the pile of magazines, and handed it to him. “Third callback, and I’m hoping third time’s a charm.”
“Tassels and Tangos.” He read the cover and paged through the bound script one-handed while his other arm draped over her. His muscles shifted suddenly from kicked back to killer. “Who’s Maxwell?”
“An acting coach I met at the last audition. Said he had some insight into what the director wanted, but I got a weird feeling. That’s his number in case I change my mind.”
Asher’s face hardened. He tucked her in, took her script, and walked to the door. Jenny leaned over to try and listen but didn’t pick up any of the conversation he had with the agent. After a minute, Asher returned, sans script.
“What’s that all about?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Probably coincidence.”
Icy dread curled down her spine. “Asher. Tell me.”
“All the notes have been signed by Maxwell.”
CHAPTER THREE
Asher wrapped his arms around Jenny and held on tight. Her run-in with a man named Maxwell wasn’t a coincidence, and Asher wouldn’t take someone fucking around with his family or his woman.
Jenny sighed as she watched The Late Show in his arms. This wasn’t how he’d thought his day would end. No way she could’ve guessed it either. She had to be exhausted. Flight from Florida, glass or two of wine, and he’d basically jumped her out of nowhere. Add the spike of arousal and then the dread of a stalker—the girl needed to pass out.
As much as he wanted to take her to her room and strip her down, it wasn’t going to happen tonight. “You falling asleep, sweetheart?”
She yawned. “Nope.”
“Right.” Besides, if he put her in bed, then he could follow up with Murphy, make arrangements for someone to talk to Jenny first thing in the morning. Maxwell contacting Jenny was a huge a break in the investigation. But Maxwell’s blatant move had been dangerous. Asher wanted to pace the room like a caged tiger, ready to rip flesh from bone given the chance to attack. Jenny didn’t need to see him worked up.
He scooped her up. “Off to bed.”
She blinked, innocent and uncertain. “You joining me?”
“Not tonight.”
Her face fell. Why had he stayed away from her this long? And how badly had he hurt her over the years? Damn, McIntyre.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I have to work a little, and you have Tassels and Tangos tomorrow. Gotta get your beauty sleep.”
He walked down the hall with her pressed against his shirt. He’d denied himself this simple luxury for years. Holding her couldn’t compare to any other woman. And kissing her… wow. Not equivalent either. She tasted like honey and smelled like vanilla. A kiss from anyone else was akin to licking cardboard. Lifeless and unnecessary.
After opening her door, he laid her on the bed. “You okay?”
She shrugged, grabbed a huge T-shirt from the foot of her bed, and changed. Her modesty was charming, but he had stolen a glance at her lace bra and thong and love
d knowing what was under her cotton nightshirt. Somehow that peep show was even better than what he’d imagined with his earlier thoughts of silk pajamas.
“Not sure I can sleep.” Her voice was worried.
“Forget about Maxwell.” Saying the man’s name made Asher’s blood boil.
Jenny crawled under the covers. “Trying.”
A vortex of emotion swirled in his mind. Like. Lust. Longing. He traced her chin with the back of two fingers. “You are as soft as you look.”
“Stay with me tonight.”
He should walk out. Stay away. Board up her door and call in for reinforcements. But one bat of her eyelashes, and he was done. Kicking off his shoes, he crawled next to her and brought her to his chest. Butterscotch and vanilla. He was in deep. Asher kissed the top of her head. “Sweet dreams.”
***
New York vibed well with Jenny. Even in dirty Penn Station with people cruising past, cops standing around, and pickpockets manning the walls. She rode the escalator up with a duffel bag slung over her back. This is my break. I will get this part, and I won’t worry about Maxwell.
An icy chill ran down her spine. Jenny peered over her shoulder incessantly and tracked for any face that rang remotely familiar. She was terrible with faces, even after Agent Murphy had questioned her bright and early that morning. After I woke up next to Asher.
Both men had pestered her with questions, but all she could remember was a short and stocky man who acted like he had something to prove. He had cut her off and talked down to her. When she had met Maxwell, she’d thought his hard sell was the source of her discomfort. But thinking back on it, maybe her instinct had flared because her Maxwell and Asher’s Maxwell were one and the same. That jerk had been trying too hard to get her alone.
Forget about Maxwell. She mentally rehearsed her favorite lines from Tassels and Tangos until her phone rang. She fished it out of her purse—Asher—and her stomach flipped. Maybe they were really happening. She touched the screen to answer. “Hi.”
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your trip?”
“Easy enough.” She shivered. Asher’s chiseled face had been stuck in her head. She replayed every kiss and touch from the night before. “We were on time.”
“Good.” He took a long breath. “Did I mention waking up next to you made my day? We should do that again soon.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. “No. You didn’t.”
“Ouch, but you’re not signing up to do it again?” He laughed.
“No, wait. Of course.” She rolled her eyes, snapping out of her fog. “Don’t tease me. This is all a little surreal to me.”
“Why?”
She stood at the crosswalk next to a newspaper stand. Facing her was a slew of New York daily rags. More than half of them had his picture above the fold. “Hold on.” She snapped a picture and texted it to him. “Because I’m a nobody, and you’re a little like a modern-day Prince Charming. Check your text messages.” She waited until he came back to the phone. “See what I mean?”
“Ignore it. I do.”
“Ignoring.” Yeah, right.
“So, I made arrangements for a protective detail for Molly while she traveled. And you too.”
She crossed the sidewalk with a gaggle of people, eyeing each one for Maxwell. “What’s that mean?”
“A friend is former FBI, does private security and undercover work. I think he’d fit in, and he can work with you until the Maxwell situation is wrapped.”
“You’re assuming I’ll get the part?”
“Of course I am.”
The audition building was straight ahead, and adrenaline shot through her system. “That’s confident of you.”
“Sweetheart, you should assume the same thing. Anyway, his name is Ricky, and he’ll play your acting or choreography coach. Something like that. I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about, but he knows theatre, and he’ll find you. He’s hard to explain. Never what he seems, so just go with it.”
“You didn’t need to do that, Ash.”
“Of course I did. I would’ve done it even if last night didn’t happen the way it did.”
“All right. I’m here. Talk to you later.” Because we chat on the phone now. That’s your new normal. Own it.
She looked up at the towering building. This was the third time she would walk through the doors, and Jenny was ready to give the audition of her life. The script had been permanently embedded in her mind. It was sexy. Fun. The costumes were outrageous. Bright. Feathery. Full of sequins. The part was hers—it just had to be—and promised to be a big debut.
Jenny pushed through the spinning doors, took a deep breath, and was tapped on the shoulder.
“Took you long enough. I’m Richard.” His name fluttered into the air, full of pizzazz. “You can call me Ricky. All my friends do.” He spun around the lobby. “I love this location. Love! Great audition rooms. Good energy.”
What? Ricky was nothing like she’d expected of Asher’s former FBI friend. Not at all. “You’re Asher’s friend? Were with the FBI?”
“Takes all kinds.” He took her fingers in his hand and held them like they were promenading in a royal court. They walked toward the front desk to check in with security. “Sixteenth floor.” Ricky pointed at Jenny, and they handed over the IDs for a quick inspection. “Third callback. She’s a surefire winner.”
“Good luck, miss.” The security guard handed back their licenses, and they were allowed access to the elevators.
They rode in silence to the sixteenth floor. Somewhere near the seventh floor, Ricky donned his invisible security person hat. “If anyone asks who I am, I’m Ricky, your coach. If something bugs you, doesn’t feel right, or if Maxwell walks in and you remember his ugly mug, you just wave your pretty little hand at me, and I’ll take it from there.”
She blinked. “You’ll take it from there? How?”
“What do you mean, how?” He rolled his eyes but did a little karate chop. “Should I get out my guns and thump my chest? Maybe do a push-up contest? Would that make you feel better? Though I’d much rather get an iced mocha latte and talk about your posture.”
My posture? What’s wrong with my posture? She was sure Ricky hated her all of a sudden. So much for making friends with the guy. And she could see why Asher had struggled to explain her protective detail.
“Don’t gawk, Jenny. Not a great look on you, and you’re super cute. Don’t do yourself any injustices.” He sized her up. “I can see why Congressman McIntyre is so…vested in you.” He paused again then nodded. “You need a massage. And maybe a snack. A wheatgrass smoothie. Does wonders for the mood, you know?”
Actually, maybe they would be friends. She’d be friends with anyone who suggested a massage, no matter the reason. She checked her phone. Ten minutes until her audition time. “No time, but afterwards, absolutely. Wish me luck.”
Ricky took her hand and swung it. “Break a leg.”
***
Nothing had turned up from the phone number Maxwell had given Jenny. Failure made Asher’s skin crawl, and even though Ricky was with her, he cleared his schedule and hopped on the train to New York City.
In the span of one night, Jenny had gone from being someone he refused to touch to the woman he refused to stay away from.
The high-speed train wasn’t getting him there fast enough, and despite all the campaign calls and emails he could do, he let his mind wander. Tassels and Tangos. What was that about anyway?
His campaign consultant called again. It had to be the tenth call in a row. He growled, not wanting to take it, but did. “Yeah, McIntyre here.”
“You’re in New York?”
“Almost.”
“What about your fundraiser tonight with—”
“I canceled that.”
“I know you canceled it. Any particular reason why, or should I worry you’ve lost your mind six weeks out from Election Day?”
Asher laughed. “You’re the seco
nd person in as many days to tell me I’ve lost my mind.”
“Not funny.”
“I’ll make it up. I swear.”
“This is why you pay me the big bucks. Already worked that out for you. All you have to do is make an appearance at some swanky dinner tonight at some fancy New York City restaurant. Try to smile at the big donor’s very pretty daughter a few times, and we’re good.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We aren’t anything. I’m done with the arm candy.”
“I didn’t say you were her date tonight. I’m saying that her big-money daddy wants you two to meet, and he was hosting the fundraiser in DC that you’ve decided to skip. So there isn’t much to discuss here, Congressman. Make the guy happy.”
Asher growled to himself. Election Day loomed. He couldn’t afford rookie mistakes, and pissing off a major donor was amateur. “Fine. Done.”
He hung up the phone. It rang again. But it was Jenny.
“Asher?”
The giant pressure leaning on his chest melted at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“I got the part,” she nearly screamed into the phone. “They gave it to me.”
“You earned it.”
“I earned it.” She made an excited noise, and he was pretty sure that Ricky was jumping up and down with her.
Only Ricky could pull a move like this one. Such a chameleon. One of the toughest brutes Asher had ever met. That man could morph into any role he chose.
“Guess what?”
She giggled at something in the background. “What? Tell me.”
“I’m on my way to see you.”
“Really?”
The excitement in her voice was so genuine, it reminded him of how she was the opposite of every manufactured meeting, date, interview that he’d dealt with lately. “Really.”
“Oh, but they’re starting right away with costume and publicity shots. I have a whole schedule of things to do this afternoon.”
The Titan Series: Military Romance Boxed Set Page 90