Animal Attraction

by Jill Shalvis

  “No.” Look at him, all agreeable, as if his heart weren’t breaking in fucking two. Her body heat was seeping into him, warming the core of him with the very essence of her. Then she made a sound in the back of her throat and cuddled in, soft and pliant and willing. God, so willing.

  They dove at each other. Apparently, they were doing this.

  Lacing his fingers into her hair, Dell took her mouth in a drugging kiss, holding her face in one hand, sliding his other down her back to cup her ass, squeezing until she moaned. He worked his way down her body, divesting her of clothing as he went. She moaned again when he flicked his tongue over her puckered nipple and arched into him with a gasp when he dropped to his knees, pinned her hips to the door and kissed his way lower. By the time he made his way to her center she was writhing beneath his hands, the little whimpers coming from her the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard.

  “Dell,” she panted. “Now. God, please. Now.”

  Her face was upturned, lips parted, her eyes closed, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He’d never seen anything hotter. “Come first,” he said. “I love to watch you come.”

  “Oh God. I . . . Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

  She came on his fingers, and then on his tongue, and then again when he surged upright, magically produced a condom and entered her right there, taking her against the door.

  “Oh,” she cried, her fingers digging into his back. “We need to—”

  “Yes.” They needed to do this. Now. He did his best to move slow, to build up the pressure for her, trying to show her a patience he didn’t feel. But she bit his neck and then sucked a patch of skin into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it, and slow went out the window. “Jade—” He wanted to tell her to relax, that this was it, their final time and he wanted—needed—to make it last.

  But she wasn’t feeling the same need. She grinded against him and he closed his eyes. No, that made it even worse.

  Or better . . .

  Her hands were everywhere, grasping ahold of anything she could brace herself with, and though he tried to keep the pace steady, she wasn’t helping, moaning his name, arching against him, trying to climb inside his body. He felt her body tighten around him as she burst and he opened his eyes to watch, but that proved to be his undoing and he came with her, hard. When his knees gave out, he slid to the floor, barely managing to keep a grip on her. Not that she noticed. She was limp, content, and clearly sated, and for once he felt the same. Breathing hard, he braced them against the wall and held her close.

  “Gonna miss that,” she said hoarsely against his chest.

  Yeah. Big-time.

  “Are we going to get up?”

  No. He wanted to stay here, right here, still inside her body, in her life. “I’m not ready to let go of you.”

  With a soft little hum of agreement, she cuddled in tight.

  Twenty-five

  Nearly a week later, Dell shut himself in his office after a long day and sank exhausted to his chair. He’d caved and called the temp agency (emphasis on temp) on the second day. He’d told Jade he wasn’t going to replace her and he wasn’t. The agency had sent a perfectly nice twenty-two-year-old receptionist from Boise, who was interested in wintering in Sunshine to ski on the weekends.

  That was the same excuse Jade had given him when she’d come to Sunshine and it hadn’t escaped him, and as he thought of her, as he had for five straight days now, he felt a stab of pain in his chest.

  Of course that might just be the fresh scratch from pec to pec, courtesy of one pissed-off feline from an earlier patient visit.

  His day had sucked.

  His life sucked.

  Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, wanting to snap at whoever had just opened his door and let themselves in. “It’s called a knock.”

  Ignoring his scowl, Lilah sat on the corner of his desk. “You okay?”

  As if he were too busy to talk, he stared at his computer—which wasn’t even booted up. “Yeah.”

  “You working?”

  “Yep,” he said, without taking his eyes off his blank screen.

  She came around the desk and stood behind him, staring at the blank screen along with him. “Dell—”

  “Look,” he said. “I know you think you’re trying to help with the phone calls, the texts, the lunches you keep bringing by, but I want to be left alone.”

  “Really? Because when I was hurting, you never left me alone. You badgered, bullied, and pretty much shoved me back to the life of the living.”

  “I’m not you,” he said, closing his eyes.

  The next sound he heard was that of his office door shutting quietly. He dropped his head to his desk, pounding it a few times because he was a complete asshole.

  When the door opened again, he didn’t lift his head. “I’m sorry. I just want to be alone.”

  “Got that loud and clear. And nice job on kicking the puppy, you asshole.”

  Adam. He sighed. “I meant for you all to go away.”

  “Aw, and here I wanted to join your pity party.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Adam came around Dell’s desk and kicked Dell’s chair back from it. “You sent her away and now you’re punishing everyone that’s left. What the hell’s that?”

  “I didn’t send her away. She left all on her own.”

  “So ask her to come back.”

  Dell shoved Adam away and stood up, stalking to the window.

  “It’s unlike you to hole up and hide out.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Bullshit you’re not. How many women have you dated this year?”

  Dell craned his neck and narrowed his eyes at his brother.

  “Yeah,” Adam said. “I can’t count, either. You’ve never even looked back. But you’re looking back now. Why don’t you just man up, tell her how you feel, and work it out?”

  “We’re not talking about this.”

  “Okay. Except we are.” Adam took the desk chair and made himself comfortable, leaning back, folding his fingers together over his abs. “Because I’ve been voted to kick your ass into gear.”

  “Look, she was needed back at home, so she went. It’s not that far. We’re going to visit.”

  Adam nodded.

  “And anyway, I should be relieved. It’s a forced slowingdown period, right? Things . . . they were getting a little out of hand.”

  “Out of hand?” Adam repeated. “Is that what you kids call falling in love these days?”

  Dell turned to face Adam, his ass resting against the window sill because his legs felt a little wobbly. “Who said anything about love?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You only love four-legged furry creatures.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Aw, you’re repeating yourself again.” Adam stood. “Listen. What happened to us when we were kids, that was . . . fucked up.”

  Not wanting to hear this, or anything else for that matter, Dell gave Adam a push toward the door.

  Adam took a step back but held his ground. “But we still managed to make something of ourselves.”

  “Adam—”

  “That was all you, man. Brady and I kept our heads on straight because we had you to look after. And then later on when the both of us lost it, you kept your head on straight. You give everything you have to us, to this place, to the animals that come to you in it. So why can’t you give everything you have to the one woman who’s ever made you happy?”

  “Look, I told you, we’ll be okay. I’ll see her whenever I’m in Chicago, and—”

  “You’re in Chicago never.”

  Dell gave Adam another push to the door.

  “Good talk,” Adam said, just before Dell slammed the door in his face.

  It took three days for Jade to get back to Chicago. The drive was easy enough, smooth weather, no car problems. Her phone rang steadily. Lilah, checking in with traffic reports, wanting Jade to know about the cow reportedly on the highway in Wyoming, an
d the detour in Nebraska, and that Lilah had already planned a Chicago trip.

  Jade had hung up each time smiling.

  Then tearing up.

  She missed Lilah already.

  Brady called, letting her know he’d changed her oil the night before she’d left and also put on new windshield wipers.

  Adam called several times as well, asking about work and scheduling. Things they both knew that he already knew.

  No pressure to come back, not from any of them. They wanted what was best for her.

  They wanted her to be happy . . .

  Dell didn’t call. She didn’t expect him to. But she picked up her phone often and thumbed to his contact info, then set her phone down.

  Back in Chicago, she went straight to her town house. There were no surprises. Well, except that when she set Beans’s carrier down and opened the door, the cat didn’t want to come out.

  Jade coaxed her with some treats, but after she ate them she went right back into her carrier with a low growl that Jade would have sworn said, This is not home.

  Jade’s mother had sent people in to clean periodically and Sam had long ago adopted her few plants, so she shouldn’t have been surprised to find everything in order and in its place, smelling slightly of lemon cleaner.

  It was bigger than she remembered. More open.

  More empty.

  She’d spent her first day alone, not having told anyone she was back, but by day two Sam had sniffed her out.

  He let himself in with his key and called to her from the front door. “Jade?” Before she could blink, he’d crossed the living room, hauled her off the couch and was hugging her. “Jesus, are you a sight for sore eyes.” Pulling back, he stared down into her face and smiled.

  When she didn’t return it, his slowly faded. “You okay?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Just tired from the drive.”

  “How tired? Because your mother’s expecting you for dinner.”

  “I know. I’ll go get that over with and then come back here and crash, I think. Catch up on some sleep. Three solid days of driving is pretty exhausting.”

  “Is that all it is?” Sam asked quietly, still holding on to her. “Trip exhaustion?”

  Pulling free, she moved around, running a finger on some of the pictures on the walls, pictures of her and her family over the years.

  Friends.

  Old friends that had easily vanished from her life when she’d left here. There’d been a few token efforts to keep up, from both sides, but that had petered out with shocking ease.

  Now she looked at the pictures and realized her real friends were seventeen hundred miles away in Sunshine, Idaho.

  And possibly her heart.

  “Jade?”

  Throat burning, she turned to face Sam, forcing a smile that totally crumpled when he just looked at her and said her name.

  “I’m just really tired,” she whispered, and swiped angrily at the sole tear that escaped. “That’s all.”

  And utterly belying these words, she burst into tears.

  His face softened and he gathered her in, stroking her hair. “Oh, Jade. It’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded and tried not to snot on his shirt, hoping he was right. That somehow it was going to be okay.

  Sam drove to Jade’s parents’ house, which worked for Jade. She was too nervous. Unsettled.

  Heartsick.

  She stirred when Sam got off the freeway two exits early.

  “What are you doing?” Jade asked.

  “Need to go by the center and pick up some files to read tonight.”

  Panic slithered through Jade. “No.”

  Sam slid a look at her, then did a double take, his easy smile fading into worry. “Jade.”

  “I’m not doing this now.”

  “They’re expecting you tomorrow, you know that, right? I thought it’d be easier for you if we went there now, tonight. When there’s no one there. You can walk through, get your bearings.”

  Her pulse was up to stroke level and her palms were sweating. “I’m not going back for the first time at night.”

  Again Sam sent her a questing, concerned look but he didn’t press. He simply executed a U-turn and got back on the freeway without another word.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  “I just got you back.” He reached for her hand to give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure as hell not risking chasing you out of here.”

  Ten minutes later, they pulled up to her family home, which was a large Colonial with a circular driveway lined with oak trees and strategically placed flowerpots to give a sedate but elegant glow of color.

  Growing up, she’d run across the grass, picked flowers for the neighbors, and climbed the trees. Despite the place’s sophistication, it had been a warm, family home.

  There were cars in the driveway, too many, which made her stomach jangle uncomfortably. Never in her life had a crowd bothered her, certainly not a crowd of what was sure to be people she knew and knew well, but as they got out of Sam’s car, she held on to the door a little too long.

  Sam came around for her and took her hand. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” But at the front door she hesitated again. It hadn’t been that long, she’d flown home for a long weekend for her father’s birthday. And then over Memorial Day for another quick trip when her cousin had had a baby.

  “Jade,” Sam said softly.

  “Give me a minute.” Or another year and a half.

  But then the matter was taken out of her hands when the door whipped open and her mother stood there.

  “Well goodness, darling. You’re standing out there like a delivery person waiting for a tip.” Lucinda Bennett had given up practicing medicine five years ago now to dedicate her time to Jade’s father, but she hadn’t given up a single concession to looking good. She was in a black Prada cocktail dress, her carefully maintained red hair twisted up out of her face. She was as beautiful as ever as she gestured for Sam to come in, giving him a hug that she had to reach up for since Sam was a foot taller than her.

  Sam dutifully bent and kissed his aunt on the cheek, gently squeezed Jade’s shoulder, and moved into the house out of sight.

  Lucinda took Jade’s hands into her own and held tight. “So you don’t escape.”

  “Mom.”

  “What, you ran off once. I am not risking it again.” She looked Jade over. “Your hair’s getting long.”

  “Yes.” Jade resisted patting at it self-consciously. “Mom, I—”

  “And you haven’t been wearing sunscreen religiously like I taught you—you have a tan. Darling, your skin is your age meter.”