by Mara Jacobs
But now she played shrink for just a second and wondered if she hadn’t done it to protect herself. To temper the vision of him in her bed.
And she hadn’t even factored in the naked part.
God, he was so big, so strong, with a chest full of dark hair that trailed down and down into…a mass of…frilly pink cotton. Yep, that helped. A little.
“You didn’t wake me. I slept most of the afternoon and evening after my mom and Lizzie left. I just woke up about an hour ago.”
She nodded, trying not to stare at his chest. “Wait. So you got that dinner by yourself?”
“Well, my mom put it in the oven on timer. I didn’t make it or anything.”
“But you got out of bed, got the thing out of the oven, ate, and did the dishes?”
He shrugged, like it was no big deal, and Alison took a step closer, really looking at him now, not just at his amazing physique. “That seems like a lot on your first day out. Are you feeling okay?” She went to place a hand on his forehead like a mother checking a child for fever, but stopped herself.
He tracked her movement with his eyes, staying on her dropped hand as he said, “Doc said I should move around a little more each day.”
“Yes, but he probably meant, like, working up to getting to the john or something, not standing in the kitchen doing dishes.”
“I just put ‘em in the dishwasher. It’s no big deal. I’m fine.” There was an edge to his voice and she knew to drop it. She moved around the side of the bed, to a small alcove that looked out onto the lake. She’d placed an upholstered chair and ottoman in the little nook, thinking she’d read case files on that chair while watching boaters on the lake. She’d even spent extra money on beautiful windows. But instead, the spot had become her sanctuary from the outside world and she never brought work into the space. She used it for pleasure reading and to just sit and be calmed by the sight of the lake.
Getting comfy in the chair, she studied Petey while he watched her. “Do you want to talk about—” She saw the panicked look in his eyes and realized he thought she was going to bring up the night of Katie and Darío’s wedding reception. She quickly finished her thought. “—Setting up some ground rules while you’re staying here?”
“Like what? You’ll put a necktie on your bedroom door if you’ve got someone in there?” There was some humor in his voice, but also just enough petulance to make her burrow into the chair, pull the cashmere throw from the ottoman up and around her, and give him a small, coy smile and shrug.
“Well, yes, I guess that’s what I mean.”
It wasn’t at all what she’d meant. But the way his shoulders tensed and his eyes narrowed…well, she really couldn’t be blamed for a little exaggeration, could she?
“Are you seeing someone right now?”
“I….”
He held a hand up. “Wait. Were you seeing someone that night? The night of Katie’s wedding? Is that why you bailed in the morning without a word?”
Where had that idea come from? Had he been thinking about why she hadn’t stuck around for the post-mortem? Wasn’t it obvious? That there was no way in hell she could face him after….
The best night of sex in her life.
Wow. How could she even know that if most of the night was still hazy at best? But she knew it was true.
And suddenly she didn’t want to play this game with him. “No. I wasn’t seeing anyone then. I’m not seeing anyone now.”
He relaxed. Just a small movement, a tiny shifting of the shoulders, but she saw it. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, then let it out. “So, let’s do this. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room.”
Well, crap. But she wasn’t a shrink for nothing. She could shut this down easily enough. “Which elephant is that? The two-month-old elephant?” She paused, waiting for him to see where she was leading him. The moment he did, she lowered the hammer. “Or the eighteen-year old elephant.”
Direct hit. He wouldn’t be trying to push her anywhere she didn’t want to go. She tossed the throw off of herself, got up and made to leave the room. If the man could fix himself dinner and put his dishes in the dishwasher, he didn’t need her waiting on him. She could make an early night of it in the guest room where she’d moved some of her things.
As she passed by the bed, he moved for her arm. She tugged, but he held tight. “If that’s where you want to go, that’s where we’ll go,” he said, and pulled her closer to him. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and walk out.”
“Watch me,” she said. He not only held fast, but also tugged on her hard, causing her to tumble into the side of the bed. He took advantage of her loss of balance and pulled her across his big body so that her butt was on the bed near his hip and her legs were draped over his lap. He anchored her with a quick arm around her waist, his other hand still gripping her arm.
He was so close. His eyes were so blue as they bore into hers. She’d always loved a black-haired, blue-eyed combination on a man. He smelled clean, if just a little antiseptic, probably from hospital shower soap. She thought she’d find it unpleasant, but she didn’t.
“Not this time,” he whispered. “You’re not going to walk away from me this time.” His eyes dropped to her lips and she knew he was going to kiss her.
And God help her, she was going to kiss him back.
Seven
Figure skaters have awful perceptions of hockey players.
~ Kristi Yamaguchi
She smelled so good. Not at all like the hospital soap and shampoo that he’d used this morning before he’d been discharged.
God, was that just this morning? Sitting here now, with Alison in his arms, it seemed like everything else was light years away. That everything came down to this one moment in time. When he could kiss Alison Jukuri again.
It’d been eighteen years between the first and second time they’d kissed, so two months between the second and third time should feel like nothing. But it didn’t. It felt like a very long time indeed.
“Petey,” she said with warning in her voice.
Typically he’d heed that warning tone, knowing that the barbs would soon come out. But the moment he saw her walk through the bedroom door, he knew he was going to try out Mr. Jukuri’s advice. Even if that advice had been for Jimmy and Sally.
Hard-headed woman and a befuddled man? Same diff.
“Alison,” he said softly. He ran his hand up and down her back trying to gentle her, like a mare that could bolt at any minute. “Easy. It’s so easy.” And it was. That was the shitty part about the whole thing—the physical had been easy, and so, so good, between them. It was the other stuff—the real-life stuff—that caused them to steer clear of anything more than friendship.
His hand released her arm and slid down, over her little wrist, to her hand. He twisted his palm up so hers rested in his. He didn’t assert any pressure, didn’t circle his fingers around hers, he just waited while he watched her.
Her big brown eyes left his and travelled to their hands. God, he loved to watch her think, to see that million-dollar mind grapple with something so basic, so simple. Like holding hands with a man she was hot for. She may have a genius IQ, but when it was her own life, she was as clueless as everybody else.
Something clicked inside her. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew the moment she decided. She bit her lip—Jesus, that sent a shock straight to his dick—and slowly moved her hand so that their fingers aligned on top of each other, though hers were much smaller and shorter than his. Then she put just the slightest pressure on hers so that her fingers split his and their hands were intertwined.
She looked from their hands back to him and he thought he’d lose it. She was so breathtaking to him right then, her eyes shimmering with passion, her little chin raised just a tiny bit in challenge. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation. God, those lips. Must taste was all his non-million-dollar brain was capable of computing.
He started to dip his head slowly, to be
gentle so she wouldn’t turn away, and then Mr. Jukuri’s words ran through his head. Take it. Take. His body paraphrased. His hand quickly slid from her back to her nape, holding her in place as his mouth descended on hers. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise just as his lips took hers and he knew he’d made the right move.
Holy shit, she tasted good. A little coffee, something sweet, but mostly she tasted of desire. He’d slept with more women than he could remember, but this little firecracker had always been the kiss he thought of the most. For her being so tiny, and he so huge, their mouths fit together perfectly. His lips moved over hers, quickly finding a rhythm. He slid his tongue inside her mouth to find hers waiting to play, to tangle, to taste him back.
He tightened his grip on the back of her neck and she moaned. A fleeting memory of her moaning with pleasure as he held her down that night two months ago passed by him. Did his girl like to be taken?
Increasing the pressure of his mouth on hers, he moved their intertwined hands behind her back, arching her against him, taking away some of her control. And damned if she didn’t like it, breathing more heavily, devouring his lips in return.
Christ, could it have been that easy all these years? Just take the control from a woman who was always in control of her own emotions? A woman who wore biting comments and her high intellect like armor against all those who got close?
Instead of trying to slowly pierce it, should he have just ripped the damn armor off?
The hand on her neck loosened and she whimpered her disapproval. “Wait,” he whispered to her. “I’ve got it now. I know. I’ve got ya.” She didn’t acknowledge his words other than claiming his mouth and sucking on his tongue, but that was enough. He moved his hand from her neck to her shoulder, then pushed her down—not very gently—to her back, following her down, hovering over her, blocking out any sight but him. Her legs slid up over his turned hip, dangling along his ass.
He pulled his lips from her. She had her eyes shut tight. “Look at me,” he whispered, but she only licked her lips, inviting him back. Not good enough. “Look at me,” he growled, and nipped her bottom lip. Her eyes sprung open, glazed with desire and something else. Embarrassment? Shame?
No. He wouldn’t allow that. If she needed it this way, he could do that for her and not let her feel badly about it. He pulled their still joined hands from behind her—sadly, because the arch of her back pushed those sweet tits nearly in his face—and pinned their hands above her head. He quickly grabbed her other hand and brought it up to join her other, holding them both down with his. He skimmed his free hand down the underside of her arm, against her soft, baby-blue sweater. Down along her ribcage, to the petite, but curvy waist. He held her firmly there, letting her know he was in charge. She briefly tried to free herself, but she didn’t put much effort into it and she licked her lips and watched his face as he pushed her hands deeper into the pink sheets.
“Don’t,” he said firmly. Her chest started rising more heavily, almost begging for his touch, but he wouldn’t give it to her. Not yet. He swooped down to taste those lips again, but she moved her head slightly to the side at the last moment. Oh, she wanted to play. He tightened his grip on her hands. “Kiss me,” he demanded, and she turned her head and looked at him, confliction in her gaze. “Now,” he said more strongly, and dipped his head so his lips hovered over hers. “Do it.”
And damn, she did, raising her head off the bed to devour his mouth with hers. She moaned again as his hand left her waist to cover a soft breast. He squeezed, then rubbed his thumb over the already hard nipple. He broke away from her kiss so he could watch as his continued stroking caused her nipple to tighten up and peak behind her sweater. He tried to pinch, but his fingers slid on the soft material. He didn’t want to let go of her hands to get the sweater off, but he had to get his mouth on her. Pushing the sweater up to her chin, he didn’t even take the time to reach behind her and undo her bra, instead pulling down the cup so that her luscious globe became visible to him.
And available to his mouth.
He kept his eyes on hers as he took that sweet nipple into his mouth, pushing her joined hands further down on the bed.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, her neck arching, head driving into the mattress. Her hands wrapped around his and he wasn’t sure if he was holding her down, or she was holding him to her, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that hard nipple in his mouth pebbling up under his tongue. The soft flesh surrounding it tightening and growing as he sucked.
He switched sides, going through the same jerky movements to bare her other breast and feast upon it. God, she had amazing tits. Full-sized for such a petite woman, soft yet firm and so, so responsive. He could have stayed like that for hours, just moving his head from time to time to lick and play and suck on the other one. But she wanted more, his Al. She started moving her hips, which, given how awkwardly situated they both were, basically jammed her ass into his crotch—not that he was complaining.
He needed to be on top of her, and he sensed she needed it too. Forgetting everything except the need to dominate her little body, he slid her legs from his hip down….
“Fuck,” he yelled as excruciating pain shot through his leg. His hands left her to reach down and move her legs from on top of his bad knee just as she realized what had happened.
“Oh, holy crap, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. She tried to scoot away from him, but it only caused her foot to come in direct contact with his knee, even more unprotected since he’d taken the brace off for the night shortly before she’d come home.
He hissed through his teeth, wanting to throw her legs and body well away from him, and yet not wanting her gone from beneath him. He just needed to move his damn leg away….
But it was too late. She did some kind of gymnastic half-twist, half-roll away from him and she was off the bed on the other side. He pawed at the sheets, like he could pull her back to him, but she was shaking her head. She pulled down her sweater and stepped further away.
“It doesn’t hurt. I mean, it did at first, but it’s fine now.” He held his hand out to her, still off balance from her sudden departure. “No damage done.”
Wrong thing to say. Her head was shaking and it sounded like a small snort of half disgust and half laughter escaped from her. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to take the strangled sound back. Her fingers moved over her lips, puffy from their rough kisses.
She walked quickly around the bed and to the door.
“Al, wait,” he pleaded, but she was nearly out the door. But then she stopped. Thank God she stopped, though she kept her back to him. Her movements in front of her body indicated that she tucked her breasts back into her bra. What a waste.
She slowly shook her head. “I’m so sorry, I never meant for that to happen.”
“My knee’s fine. I don’t even feel it anymore,” he replied, though he knew that’s not what she’d meant.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said the frickin’ Mensa member.
“Come back, Al,” he said quietly, but she was already shaking her head, still not even looking back at him. “Look at me, for Christ’s sake.”
She slowly turned around. Yep, her breasts were safely back in her bra cups. But it was the resolved look on her face that bothered him the most.
“I have no problem with you being here, Petey.” At his raised brow, she went on, “Really. Whatever else, you are my friend, and it really does seem to be the best solution. But—”
Did any good sentence ever start out with “but”? He motioned for her to continue, wanting the set-down over with.
“But what just happened cannot happen again.” Her voice grew firmer as she spoke, like she was gaining momentum. “I’m happy to have you stay here while you recover. But it’s obvious you can get your own food and get yourself in and out of bed by yourself.”
“I never said I couldn’t. Nobody expected you to play nursemaid.”
“Right. Exactly. And I’m gone
so much of the time anyway, and you’ll need to be resting. Well, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She waved her hands between them. “This much proximity. But, Petey, seriously, it’s not going to happen again.” She gave him her schoolmarm look and left.
Eighteen years of trying—granted, not very hard and not very often, but still sometimes trying—to get close to her on more than a friendly level. Whenever he did, she’d pull that look on him and walk away.
And he always let her, figuring after what had happened all those years ago that he didn’t really have the right to ask for more.
But as she walked out that door, and as he sat with the rest of his life ahead of him, he knew that he wasn’t going to let a pouty look stop him this time.
“Walk away then, Alison,” he said loudly though he knew she’d hear him in the hallway of the small cottage. “I can’t chase you now.” He emphasized the last word and waited to hear her bedroom door shut—or more likely slam. When he heard nothing, he loudly added, “But my knee is going to heal. And you won’t be able to walk away then. And if you do…I can chase you.”
Now he heard the door slam.
***
That…that…super-ego, super-sized neanderthal.
Alison took off her slacks and threw them in the general vicinity of the guest room hamper. Her fury grew as she pulled her sweater over her head and remembered the rough way Petey had shoved it out of his way. She cursed herself as she pulled her bra off and reached for her thermal top, wanting to cover up her aching breasts. Breasts he made ache.
How dare he insinuate he’d come after her, whether in the literal or metaphorical sense. Where was he all these years? Oh, sure, there were a couple of times each summer when he’d sniff around a little bit after a night of too much beer and friendliness. But only because he was bored out of season and probably horny without all the groupies around.
She’d pretend not to notice, or quietly shut him down, not wanting to be just a warm body at the end of the evening.
She’d been that once and look where it’d gotten her.
