Triggered by Love

by Rachelle Ayala

“Hope you’re satisfied getting off in my mouth,” she said in a peeved voice with her arms crossed over her breasts.

  He held her in his lap, arms wrapped around her and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. How could he respond without making things worse? Of course, he wanted her—but not as a reward. That felt so transactional.

  Not knowing exactly what to say, he simply held her and watched the rain splash over the windowpanes. The tapping of water on the tin roof, as well as the intermittent flashes of lightning and thunder rumbling throughout the cabin made him feel like he and Avery were the last couple on earth.

  Gradually, her stiff muscles softened, and he could feel the tension dissolve from her body. Her shoulders shuddered gently, and she sniffed and sobbed quietly. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, satisfied to lend her his strength.

  If he wanted her to open up to him, he’d have to let her take her time. From the way she reacted, both defiant of her brother’s control and distrusting of her family’s care for her, he sensed deep issues.

  Last time she cried on his shoulder it was for Brando. He hoped she wasn’t crying because of him. He could never forgive himself for causing her heartbreak.

  Yet, what had triggered her? Was it purely the sex that she went overboard on? Was she ashamed or afraid he’d think less of her? Or was it something deeper? Like traumatic overcompensation.

  Who had hurt her? The sexual acting out was more than grief over losing a mate. It felt deeper and darker, as if it was something Brando had helped her deal with, and without him, she had lost her moorings.

  “You okay?” Jason asked Avery after her sobs subsided.

  She wiped her tears with the back of her wrist and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” He knew he was abrupt, but he didn’t have the patience for useless words and platitudes.

  “For being so weak and crying in your arms. This is the second time in a day, a record.”

  “We’ve had a long day.” He kissed her temple and caressed the back of her neck. “I’m privileged you trust me enough to cry in my arms, and for the record, you’re not weak.”

  Her shoulders shuddered, but he couldn’t tell if she was weeping or chuckling silently. Instead, he kept his arms around her and waited. She was carrying a heavy load alone, professing herself to be strong, and she was strong, but even the strongest person needed someone to lean on.

  He well knew, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.

  “Last time we talked, which was this morning,” Avery said. “I was the one who wanted to talk, then I ended up spilling my guts.”

  “You needed to let it out.” He couldn’t help kissing the top of her head. Her sexy scent mixed with the electricity of the lightning storm was addictive.

  She shook her head and glanced up at him, blinking back the tears. “No, it’s your turn to share.”

  “Me?” He was the strong, stable one—well, maybe not while she had her mouth around his cock, but he was on an even keel.

  “Yes, tell me about your mother.”

  And just like that, she landed a bullseye on his heart.

  His muscles tensed, and his first reaction was to push her off and escape. But somehow, with Avery, her gentle, no-nonsense tone lured him to hold her tighter.

  “Jase?” Avery’s voice cracked through his gloom. “What was she like?”

  He lay back on the bed, pulling her on top of him. She was so beautiful and lovely, her honey-blond hair cascading over him, and her blushing face, still damp with tears, lowered to cuddle next to his, cheek to cheek.

  “She shouldn’t have died.” He heard the croak in his voice. “I didn’t get there in time.”

  “What happened?”

  He liked that about her. Other women would have said something along the lines of it wasn’t your fault, or I’m sure there was nothing you could do, even if they didn’t know the details.

  It was because they didn’t really want to know the pain he held. Just wanted to gloss over it and get on with the romance or whatever agenda they’d had with him—hot sex, likely.

  “You don’t want to know.” Okay, now he was being ornery, or was he testing her?

  “I can sense pain and guilt,” she said. Her voice was flat and completely nonjudgmental. “How long ago?”

  That was an easy question and didn’t give anything away.

  “Fifteen years. When I was sixteen.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  Oh, she was a persistent one. Probably made a great investigator.

  “No.”

  “Was she sick?”

  “No.” He was getting tired of twenty questions. Might as well drop the boom. “My father beat her, and she died of internal bleeding. She was waiting for me to come home, but I took extra hours that evening at Gino’s because one of the waiters called in sick.”

  She hugged him tighter. “What happened to your dad?”

  “Convicted and rotting in prison where he should be.” He liked that she didn’t go into the platitudes, the false reassurances that did no good.

  “You couldn’t have known she was waiting for you,” she observed.

  “She always waited up for me. Wanted to hear a joke from Gino. But that night, when I got home, she was unconscious. Head injury and internal bleeding. She died on the way to the hospital. If I had been there earlier, I could have stopped him cold.”

  “You would have stopped it then, but not the next time your dad beat her.”

  “I should have killed him.” Jason’s muscles bunched up as his fists clenched. He turned on his side, facing the wall, dislodging Avery. He wanted to curl up and crush these violent feelings into his shell.

  Instead, Avery’s arms and legs enveloped him from behind, spooning him, and now, she was comforting him, stroking his arms and nuzzling him with her face.

  “You’re not a killer,” she declared. “You’re a protector.”

  “I’ve asked myself over and over. If I had to choose between them, there’s no choice. My mom was worth so much more than him.”

  “I know how you feel,” she said, surprising him. “Brando’s life was worth so much more than mine. He was the hero, the guy who rescued others, who was so good and loving. He would have saved more if he had lived.”

  “No, no, no.” His stomach clenched at the thought she weighed herself against Brando and found herself worthless. “It’s not for you to decide who is worth more.”

  “Truth.” She let that sink in, burying her face into the back of his neck. Her warm breath fanned over him, comforting and soothing, and her body pressed against his broad back made him feel safe—possibly for the first time since his mom died.

  He couldn’t find the words. A lump thickened his throat, and he blinked back wetness. All he could do was clasp her hand and hold it, drawing her arms around him tighter. His breathing steadied, and while he couldn’t be at peace with his mother being gone, he also felt deep inside that there had been nothing he could have done to change her fate.

  He'd stopped the beatings before, stood up for her and driven his father from the house. He’d even held him off with a shotgun, but his mother would never file a police report. No matter how he and Gino urged her to change the locks or not answer the door, she always let him in.

  It wasn’t her fault. She loved him more than she loved herself. She died believing she had a chance to earn his love. She thought if only she’d done more of what he wanted, he would have rewarded her with care and concern.

  “I won’t reward you, ever,” he said out loud. “Whatever I give you will always be a gift.”

  “I know.” She kissed the back of his head and cuddled closer. “It was a gift you deserved.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The rain stopped overnight, and sunlight streamed through the blocked and checked hunting style curtains. Avery hadn’t noticed how overdone they were the night before—long drapes with whole cloth squares of patchwork of red, green, and brown plaid
with bears, deer, moose, and tree motifs that looked like they were printed with a potato.

  The rickety dresser was scratched and dented with mismatched knobs, and the lampshade on the deer antler lamp was weathered and cracked over a dusty base.

  The mattress was hard and lumpy, but the man whose body lay sprawled over it, taking all the space, was as cuddly as granite rock. Okay, so he was all elbows and angles, and he tossed and turned in his sleep, restless, but somehow, she didn’t mind being jiggled and jostled awake throughout the night.

  She propped herself on her side and admired the view. Detective Jason Burnett was every ounce of hunky masculinity, but asleep and breathing evenly, there was a sweet air of vulnerability that made her want to kiss his booboos away and rest his cares and worries in her lap. It wasn’t easy being a policeman, and she had been too hasty to blame him when things didn’t go well.

  She’d never put herself in his shoes, but watching him sleep, his brow knit, and his movements jerky, she wondered what nightmares he kept suppressed underneath that ready, aim, fire demeanor.

  He grunted and kicked off the rumpled sheets. His eyeballs rolled underneath closed eyelids, and sweat dotted his face. His breathing was labored, and he thrashed, muttering, “No, no, no.”

  “Jason.” She reached for him, wiping her palm over his sweaty face. She cupped his jaw and shook him. “Jason. I’m here. Wake up.”

  He almost shook her off, but she held him as tight as she could, resting her weight on him, and his eyes snapped open.

  For a moment, it didn’t look like he knew who she was or where they were. He blinked, eyes narrowed with a puzzled expression, and then clarity returned and his gaze softened.

  “Avery, did I hurt you?”

  She couldn’t help smiling inside. No matter what was going on, his first concern was her.

  “No, Jase, you could never hurt me.”

  “Don’t be too sure.” He wrapped a protective arm around her. “I was in the middle of a fight when you woke me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, always the hero.” She dotted a kiss on his lips. “So, now that you’re awake, what are you thinking?”

  He returned her kiss, taking his sweet time. His big hand threaded through her hair, and his other hand ran down her back to rest on her behind.

  She was here for him. Comforting him, and she put all the tender feelings she had into her kisses. Instinctively, she knew he’d never shared the pain that haunted him with anyone else. He wasn’t the type to wear his feelings on his sleeve. He was the hardened professional, and he was alpha enough to believe he didn’t need protecting.

  Yet here he was, like putty in her arms. She should feel privileged that he’d trusted her. Or was it only because he felt he’d hurt her? No matter. She was the one kissing him and calming him from a bad night’s sleep.

  She put all of her tender feelings into the kiss, gently caressing him with her lips while he, the rascal, greedily locked his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss dramatically.

  Sweet he definitely wasn’t, and just like that, the temperature skyrocketed. Electric impulses zinged through her body where Jason touched, and the edge of his unshaven jaw brushed her burning skin like gasoline thrown over a gas grill.

  Her lips and tongue grappled with his, dipping deep into his mouth and sweeping back across his lips. A hunger she’d never known rose deep within her, swelling like a tidal surge. Heat blossomed over her entire body, and she squirmed, rolling with him as he turned her first to her side, and then crushed her beneath the hard masculinity of his muscular body.

  The jutting erection had her full attention, pressed between the junction of her legs, guarded only by the jeans she wore to bed. Her skimpy tank top was no match for his roving hands. His fingers found her nipples hard and pointed.

  She arched her back, begging for what came next and rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat.

  She wanted sex, and she wanted it now.

  He was taking his time kissing a trail down her neck, so she gave him a shove and pushed him off of her—the better to shrug off her tank top and shuck off her jeans.

  His shock turned into wide-eyed surprise when she grabbed him by the waistband, finding the tip of his cock wet and waiting to be freed.

  “I’m not sure I have another condom,” Jason said in a strangled voice.

  “I’m safe if you are.” The heat was driving her crazy, the need for him to be inside of her frantic. The desire so urgent it felt as if she couldn’t exist a moment longer without him being inside her.

  Her fingers closed around his heavy, hot shaft. His breath sizzled, hot and fast, steaming over with passion. He ran his finger over her hot button, dipping into her and stroking her juices between her folds. Was he delaying the inevitable? Unsure? Worried she wasn’t safe?

  She clamped his hand with her thighs and rocked against it while pulling on his cock. His eyes rolled back, and he stilled her hand.

  “You’re sure,” he stated rather than asked.

  “Jason.” She acknowledged him and raised her hips to meet him halfway. He plunged into her, splitting her wide open, in one long and slow and filling moment.

  Her gaze locked on to his, intense and fiery, holding a potent mixture of amazement and wicked lust. She was so tight, she quaked and quivered; she was afraid she’d come then and there.

  He moved, rocking inside her at first, and then drawing out and pushing in. They moaned in unison, filling and expanding the molten heat with cries of pleasure.

  His breath rasped, and his movements grew wilder and more frantic, pounding and slamming into her. Each stroke was like fire, hitting her with shrapnel and pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

  Writhing and gripping his tight buns, she turned into a wild woman. His weight held her down, captive, and that rod he kept slamming into her filled her to the hilt with mindless ecstasy.

  She was on a hair trigger, ready to explode. He snaked his fingers between her legs, aiming for the sensitive nub. He rubbed her to the rhythm of his velvety hard strokes, and she burst into a million rainbows of color.

  “Jase, oh, Jase,” she could barely cry out, showered with sparks from her head to her toes.

  He thrust harder, grunting and moaning, and he crested as she came down from the heights of sweet release, quivering and shaking with mindless surrender.

  His weight crushed her into the mattress, and she loved, loved, loved the feeling of being trapped underneath him, completely sheltered and protected with a feeling of belonging.

  He caught his breath and propped himself up, lightening his weight.

  “Ave, are you all right?” he asked.

  She scowled and pouted. “Stop being so concerned. I’m always all right as long as you’re covering me.”

  Grinning with a self-satisfied smirk, he lowered his head and slathered a kiss over her mouth. She noticed he was hardening again.

  She smiled into his kiss, and when he broke for air, he said, “I always get a second scoop of ice cream with a cherry on top.”

  “I always get thirds,” she teased.

  “The next round’s on me.” Turning over, he rolled onto his back and lifted her so she straddled him, motorcycle style.

  Oh boy, she couldn’t wait to ride this cop.

  Except his phone rang.

  He groaned, slapping the mattress with frustration. “I’m sorry, but I have to take that.”

  “I know.” She unstraddled him and gave his cock a squeeze. “Guess you’re not getting seconds.”

  He made a “hold-up” sign and answered, “Burnett here.”

  The tone of his voice changed as he got up from the bed. Speaking in a low voice, he strode past Avery as if she didn’t exist and locked himself in the bathroom.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jason kept his voice down while glancing out the small bathroom window.

  “What did you find?” he asked his partner, Blade.

  Last evening, before leaving the orch
ard, he’d texted a photo of the black sedan to run a check on the license plate.

  “Registered to Congressman Overton’s son, Richard,” Blade said. “He has a couple of arrests but no convictions. Shoplifting, drug possession, driving under the influence.”

  “Bet his daddy got him off. Why would he be skulking around the Cockburn mansion?”

  “You mean Avery didn’t tell you?” Blade’s voice was both amused and grave. “He used to be her boyfriend. After checking his priors, I went on his FacePlant page.”

  “Used to be or still is?” Jason wished he’d brought his laptop into the bathroom. Why had he let Avery distract him? He should have run the license number himself, but at the time, he was more interested in keeping Avery safe and not letting the moment get away from him. She was so receptive to him at dinner, and he’d let his feelings get away from him.

  “The photos are from her modeling days,” Blade replied. “The latest photo of them together was from five years back.”

  “When she was twenty-one,” Jason said. “She wiped her FacePlant page clean of everything before Brando.”

  “Richie’s worth checking out,” Blade noted. “Why don’t you ask Avery about him while I dig up his business contacts?”

  “I can do that.”

  “You have your hands full. Don’t know if you checked the news this morning.”

  “Just got up.”

  “This late? Long night, huh?” Blade’s voice was full of snark. “Did you let her get her beauty rest?”

  “Tell me what’s on the news.” Jason cut to the chase.

  “Matt Swanson got a threatening note.”

  “Did he produce the note?”

  “He posted it to his FacePlant page. You can check it out for yourself. Apparently, someone is upset that he’s dating Avery Cockburn. Told him to back off. That they won’t be missing next time.”

  “Do we believe the note is genuine?”

  “I’m going to pay Mr. Swanson a visit since he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “Avery might be able to help,” Jason volunteered. “She’s supposed to be his fake girlfriend.”