Aussie Rules

by Jill Shalvis

  He had his hands on the steering wheel, gripping tight. “Yeah?”

  She leaned into the truck to get a good look at his face. His comfortable, kind, and yes, damn sexy face. It was her own shame that it’d taken her so long to see it. “It did.”

  “What?”

  “It thrilled the hell out of me.” She gulped in a breath. “You know. To hear it. No one’s ever…” Here she faltered, but only because it was so important that she get it right. “No one’s ever loved me before. Well…Mel does, but I’m thinking that’s a different kind of love.”

  His smile was slow and real and loosened the vice she’d had on her heart for too long. “Yeah, different.”

  “Danny, I have to tell you, I need time to—”

  “I know. I’m not going to rush you, don’t worry.”

  “I have no idea how long I need.”

  “So we’ll just let it all play out. Get in.” Leaning over to the passenger side, he opened the door.

  “But…”

  He smiled, and her entire inside melted. “Trust me?” he asked softly.

  She smiled helplessly in return. He was the most passionate, wonderful man she’d ever met.

  And hot. He was damn hot. “I think I do, actually. But…” He’d said he loved her. She hadn’t said it back. She didn’t know if she could ever say it back—

  “You’re thinking too much,” he said.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Deem, I’m not taking you to elope. Just a ride.”

  “Oh.” She laughed at her foolishness and got in.

  His smile warmed her as she’d never been warmed. “Been surfing lately?”

  Pulling on her seatbelt, she shook her head. “I don’t have my bathing suit.”

  “Been skinny-dipping lately?”

  She tossed her head back and laughed. Laughed. “No,” she said, the first thing she’d been certain of all day. “I haven’t.”

  “Well, then.” His grin was adorable, with a pinch of wicked tossed in.

  She loved wicked, and as they peeled out of the parking lot, she laughed again.

  Mel couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the heat, which felt unusually sultry and steamy as thunder clouds moved in. It wasn’t worry about her future, she’d signed the lease, which lay folded on her table.

  But still, the restlessness rolled through her.

  Giving up on bed, she moved to the dark living room, sitting in the picture window as the storm hit, arms curled around her legs, chin on her knees, lost in thought about what she’d learned today about Sally.

  It was nearly impossible to reconcile her memories: Sally teaching her to use a wrench, letting her take the controls in the air at age thirteen, showing her how to carefully run a preflight check, and never, ever scrimp on the details…Sally letting her land for the first time, ruffling Mel’s hair and saying, “Good job, kid, you’re a natural, just like me.”

  Sally hugging her hard after getting her pilot’s license, her eyes filled with tears, saying, “Stay just as you are, kid, just as you are.”

  And Mel saying, “But I want to be just like you,” and Sally slowly, sadly, shaking her head.

  “God.” Mel drew a deep breath, and another, but her throat still felt tight, her eyes burned. “Goddamn.” Because how was she supposed to have these good memories while knowing Sally was a criminal who’d hurt innocent people?

  She was not going to cry again, earlier today had been enough to last her years. She should have been mortified at that, but Bo had made it okay. What was it about him that always made it okay?

  She’d always thought of herself as work. All work. But she was coming to understand there was more to life, and also, more to her.

  And that no matter what happened, she was going to be okay.

  But a little part of her couldn’t help but wonder, what would it be like if Bo wanted to stay at North Beach? With him in her life, she’d do much more than fly, that was certain now.

  She’d love.

  The thought knocked her back a few breaths, and then the soft knock on her door startled her further. Padding to the door, she frowned. “Dimi?”

  “Try again.”

  Bo.

  Everything within her reacted to that unbearably familiar voice. Everything within her wanted to throw open the door and jump him, but she set her forehead to the door and told herself that she had to give him up at some point, the sooner the better. She’d probably have managed to resist him if he hadn’t knocked again.

  Chapter 25

  Mel closed her eyes. Resist. She could do it.

  She had to do it, because this was much more than a physical want. This was the kind of ache that couldn’t be assuaged with just another quickie, amazing as that quickie would be, and Bo couldn’t, wouldn’t, offer more.

  He was leaving.

  Damn it, hadn’t she given herself enough disappointments?

  He didn’t knock on the front door again, and she breathed a sigh that she told herself was relief, which backed up in her throat when another knock came.

  The back door, this time.

  She saw him through the glass. Lightning flashed, revealing his face, his eyes, which glittered with a whole host of things she couldn’t begin to guess at.

  “Mel.”

  She stared at him. Shook her head. She felt too weak, too vulnerable.

  “Open up.” He spread his hand on the glass. “Please?”

  Ah, hell. It was the please, uttered in that Australian drawl, in that low, husky voice that followed her into her dreams. She pulled open the door, let him slip in, then walked away from him, back through the living room to her large picture window.

  Putting her hands on the sill, she stared out into the dark night, extremely aware of the man behind her in the dark, silent. Waiting.

  The wood floor creaked beneath his feet as he came close in the charged silence. Around her the awareness heightened, and she drew a shaky breath.

  Still, neither of them spoke.

  The rain hit, slashing at the windows. Bo came closer still, moving without a sound but she didn’t need to hear him, she felt him, with every fiber of her being.

  Go away. Please, go away.

  Don’t go.

  With her mind and body playing tug-o-war, she felt a little off center. “I can’t do this, Bo.”

  “I haven’t asked anything of you.”

  His voice came out of the dark. Disembodied.

  But not distant. Never distant. She had a feeling she could be in a coma and just hearing that low, whiskey, Aussie voice would bring her out and awake.

  And aroused.

  Without looking at him, she pressed her forehead to the window. Looking at him would be bad, like looking at an open box of donuts.

  Irresistible bad.

  Gotta have one bad.

  Can’t stop at just one bad.

  In fact, if she looked at him and he spoke, the combination would probably cause her to spontaneously combust.

  From behind her, he touched her hair.

  So close. He was so close she could feel the strength of him, his breath at her temple. “Mel.”

  “It’s late,” she whispered, still pressing her forehead to the glass.

  “I know. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling.”

  “Ah.” She felt the reluctant smile tug at her mouth. “A noble bedtime activity.”

  “I can think of a better one.”

  Her entire body tingled, reacting in the predictable way as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Is that why you came?”

  He touched her again, trailed a finger over her neck, nudging her oversized T-shirt off one shoulder. Simple touch. Complicated feelings. “Bo.”

  “I was lying there.”

  “Studying the ceiling.”

  A huff of breath escaped him. “Yeah. Picturing you here. Devastated from today.”

  She craned her neck to look at him now, the low light casting his face in bold relief. “So you dro
ve over here to what, make me undevastated?”

  A grimace crossed his face. “It sounded good from flat on my back.”

  Flat on his back. She wanted him flat on his back, with her straddling him. She turned back to the window, set her hands on the wood-lined pane and desperately took in the sights.

  Ocean pounding the shore.

  Sky unleashed.

  “Mel.” He set his hands on her shoulders, which he began to knead with such a knowing touch, the first moan escaped before she could stop it. “You’ve got a rock quarry going on here.”

  “Yeah. Listen, Bo…I called Matt and asked him to run Sally for more aliases.”

  “I’m searching, too.”

  Right. Of course.

  “Stop thinking, Mel,” he said softly. “At least for tonight.” He had magic hands, talented fingers…both of which she already knew. Beneath them she nearly slid into a pool of boneless putty as he drew out each and every tense muscle in her neck and shoulders and arms, concentrating in silence, until finally she sagged back against him.

  His chest brushed her back, his thighs hard and tough to her softer ones. She hadn’t taken a good look at him on purpose, but she could feel his T-shirt against her shoulders, absorbed his soft denim jeans against her bare legs. Because she was weak, very weak, she rocked her bottom, wriggling just a little.

  The sound that escaped him managed to perfectly convey his desire, as did the hard bulge she felt pressing into her bottom. She’d told herself they weren’t going to do this, but then his hands slid up her sides and down, gripping her hips when she helplessly arched into him again. Still holding on to the wood for dear life, she murmured his name.

  His hand skimmed up her belly, taking the hem of her T-shirt with him, higher, slowly higher, exposing her breasts to the night air, and then to his fingers.

  “I dream of this,” he said a little hoarsely. “Just about every night. I wake up hard and aching for you.” He slipped a hand inside her panties, let out a rough sound of pleasure when he found her wet, and slid a finger inside her.

  God. She pressed his hand against her, needing more, which he gave by adding another finger. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the sweet spot right beneath her ear; hot, wet, openmouthed kisses that went in tune with his clever fingers.

  She opened her eyes and caught her own reflection in the glass. Hair, wild. Face, hungry. T-shirt shoved up, one breast bared, nipple hard and pouty, the other covered by Bo’s big hand. Her belly rose and fell as if she’d been running. His other hand, between her legs, was still moving, the sight so erotic she almost had to close her eyes but she blinked rapidly, trying to watch, wanting to watch, because she’d never seen herself like this before.

  Then she looked up and caught Bo’s reflection. He wasn’t looking in the glass, but at the real thing, his head bent as he took in her body and what he was doing to her. His expression curled her toes. “Bo.”

  His thumb flicked over her and she couldn’t help it, she bowed back, body tight and quivery. As she shifted, a breast brushed the cold glass, making her gasp.

  He stroked her again.

  Her mind shut down, reduced to nothing but sensation. Hot fingers inside her. Cold glass against her breast. Bo’s mouth on her throat, his erect penis pressing into her bottom. “Please,” she managed.

  That was all he seemed to need to hear, and in the next moment, he dragged down her panties and opened his jeans.

  Something hit the ledge and she looked down. A condom packet.

  So they weren’t going to compound their errors.

  And then she couldn’t think at all because he’d dipped down a little, his thighs on the outside of hers, and slid inside her with one powerful thrust.

  She cried out, and so did he as she pushed back against him for more. Please more. “Bo.” She couldn’t stay still, couldn’t, but when she wriggled, desperate, his hands gripped her hips, his voice low and rough in the dark. “Don’t move. Christ. Don’t move—”

  But she couldn’t help it. He was huge inside her, filling her to bursting, and when his thumb pressed over her again, she began to come. At her first shudder, he groaned, his fingers digging into her hips, gripping hard as he began to move, too, thrusting into her again and again, so that she burst once more, or maybe that was still. She didn’t know, didn’t care, as long as it went on and on…And then he came, pulsing powerfully inside her, sinking to the floor with her as if his legs could no longer support them.

  “So,” she finally managed, flat on her back. “We ended up ceiling-watching here, too.”

  He let out a strangled laugh, and still breathing hard, rolled to his side, hauling her into the curve of his body. “It’s better with you.”

  “I went off like a bottle rocket.” She was a little embarrassed, actually, at how fast she’d come.

  “Twice.” He grinned down into her face.

  “You counted?”

  “I didn’t have to, you screamed it to the moon.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did, too.”

  She felt herself blush, and he laughed again. “What, you’re shy now?”

  “Did I really scream?”

  “My name,” he said, looking quite pleased with himself.

  Yeah, well, all he had to do was touch her and she went up in flames. Hell, he looked at her and her body temperature soared off the damn chart.

  Truth was, she could get overheated just thinking about him.

  And yeah, he’d made her scream. She shook her head and struggled to her feet. “Okay, time for you to get out of here.”

  He was shaking his head before she straightened. “I’m not leaving town yet, not with you still getting threats. Not with this whole thing unresolved.”

  She stared down at him. She’d meant for the night, but that his leaving the country had been forward enough in his mind to assume she’d been talking about that…

  She crossed her arms, suddenly extremely aware that she was naked. “I, um, meant it was time for you to leave my house.”

  His lazy, satisfied, cat-in-cream smile vanished. “Mel.”

  No. No, she didn’t want to hear it, and she whirled away.

  “Shit, you’re a genius,” she heard him mutter to himself as he got to his feet, but she sped up as she headed toward her bedroom.

  “Mel—”

  She shut the door, and in the dark went straight for her dresser, planning on putting on clothes. All of them. She needed armor, she needed—

  A lock on her bedroom door, apparently, because Bo walked right in, still butt-ass naked. “Mel—”

  “It’s late,” she said in the coldest voice she could muster, which wasn’t very cold with him standing there looking like some kind of pagan god.

  “I know. Mel, about me leaving the States—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Mel—”

  “Seriously. Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I was careful not to lead you on,” he said quietly. “I never led you to believe I was staying—”

  “No. You were careful,” she agreed. “Now please go.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, during which she tried to remain cool and more importantly, not lose it.

  “I’m guessing this is nonnegotiable,” he said.

  “Give the man an A.”

  Chapter 26

  For the first time in memory, Mel’s inner alarm clock didn’t go off and she overslept. By the time she entered North Beach, she was fifteen minutes late and found herself the target of a handful of gazes, all staring at her in shock.

  “What?” she asked a bit defensively to everyone sitting around the café bar still eating their donuts. “I’m a little late, so what?”

  “Two times in as many weeks,” Char said, concern all over her face.

  “Yeah, did hell freeze over?” Kellan asked.

  Ritchie snickered, then sucked it in at the glare from Mel, who grabbed a donut and lifted her chin. �
��So I slept in, no biggie.” On second thought, this was a two-donut morning, and she snatched another, double-fisting, before stalking off to her office.

  Neither the lemon pastry nor the jelly-filled donut appeased the hole in her gut. She sat at her desk organizing her flight schedule, trying not to think about last night in Bo’s arms, and how for one glorious moment she’d completely lost herself in him. She also tried not to think about the day before, flying to Mexico to find Sally, finding instead more information that had only made her feel worse, and then nearly getting shot in the process…

  Tried not to think about any of it…

  It didn’t help that as the day passed, she realized something else. Morale seemed to be up at North Beach, and bad attitudes down. People were happy. Content. Char was singing at the top of her lungs to Bon Jovi. Nothing new, but she’d hugged everyone three or four times today already. Al, out of the dog house, had sold some photos, and also had a gallery interested in his work.

  Oh, and Dimi was smiling. Smiling, answering phones, charming customers…

  Mel would have suspected alcohol but she knew Dimi had given it up.

  Even Kellan and Ritchie seemed different. They’d been on time and awake. A miracle in itself.

  And then there was Ernest. He hadn’t moaned, groaned, complained, or so much as set a spider jar on her desk, not once the entire day. And he’d even offered to bring her lunch.

  She’d nearly fallen off her own chair at that one. Ernest, offering his own money up for lunch.

  How was it possible that everyone around her was getting cheery again, feeling excited and hopeful, and she’d lost all taste for it?

  Oh, yeah. Because Bo Black was going to walk out of her life.

  Shortly after noon, Char popped into Mel’s office.

  Mel’s nose twitched at the delicious-smelling something in Char’s hands, and perked up slightly. “I hope it’s carbo-loaded.”

  Char set down a tuna melt, with the cheese and tuna squeezing out the sides of the thick French bread. “For you? Always.”

  Mel took a bite and moaned. “You are a goddess.”

  “Yeah. A pregnant one.”

  Mel stared at her as the food stuck in her throat. “What?”