TRIGGERED: A Romantic Suspense Bundle (5 Books)

by Evie Nichole

  He slid the hand at her stomach down, sliding it into the moisture from her arousal and then finding her clit. He rubbed it quickly, as he continued to thrust, and she couldn’t believe her pleasure could have intensified even more.

  “Fuck!” she yelled. “I’m going to come!”

  “Me, too,” he groaned into her ear, and then she was coming, her moan loud and long, and he was coming, his hips jerking as he tried to keep up his rhythm through both of their orgasms. His moans were deep and grunting, but almost as loud as hers were. He moved his hand away from her clit, relaxing his grip around her torso. She fell forward, slowly sliding off of him and then collapsing once more, her breathing rapid and heavy. He collapsed beside her, falling onto his back, throwing one arm over his eyes, his panting making his chest heave up and down. They were close, but not touching, both too sensitive for even casual contact. Their eyes were closed, and the only sounds were their slowly easing breaths.

  After a long moment, he moved his arm, opening his eyes and turning his head to her. She was on her stomach, eyes closed and breathing still a little labored.

  “Hey,” he whispered, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Hi,” she said, a sleepy smile spreading across her mouth.

  “You good?” he asked self-consciously, and she giggled.

  “I’m good,” she said. “You good?” she exaggerated the words, mocking him slightly.

  “Oh yeah,” he sighed, and they both laughed.

  ***

  She walked back into the room, his t-shirt hanging loosely on her, ending just at her upper thighs. He was on his back against the pillows, his boxers back on, and both hands behind his head. He watched her with a content smile on his face. She walked around to the other side of the bed, handing him one of the glasses of water she’d brought and then climbing under the sheet herself. They both drank greedily.

  “Whew,” he exclaimed, making her grin.

  “Agreed.” She set her glass on the bedside table, placing his there, too, once he had chugged its remaining contents.

  He still had one arm under his head, and he extended the other behind her; she lay down and scooted closer to him, resting her head just beside his shoulder.

  They lay in peaceful silence for a while, he staring at the ceiling and she staring at the wall across from her. They both wore sleepy, satisfied smiles.

  The ever-present VCR in her mind was replaying everything that had happened since they walked through the door. She thought about undressing in front of him, she thought about his tongue on her clit, she thought about her lips on his cock and the look on his face as she had taken him into her mouth.

  She laughed aloud, and he looked over at her.

  “Yes?” he asked, a smile on his face.

  “Nothing,” she said, smiling embarrassedly.

  “That’s not very nice,” he said, thrusting his lip out in a ridiculous pout. She laughed again, and then covered her eyes so she didn’t have to see him while she told him what had gone through her mind.

  “You know that gross thing some guys say, ‘You’d look great with my dick in your mouth?’”

  He groaned in disapproval. “Yes.”

  “I was just thinking…Oh god!” She shook her head, smiling because of her shame.

  He poked her torso. “Tell me, tell me, I’ll keep poking you until you tell me.” He kept poking her until she laughed and slapped his hand away.

  “Fine. I was thinking that…” she paused and then said the rest so quickly he almost didn’t understand her, “youlookgreatwithyourcockinmymouth.”

  There was a pause as he deciphered her sentence. Then he guffawed; there was no other way to describe it. He barked out laughter so hearty it could only be called a guffaw.

  She peered at him through a gap in her fingers, giggling and blushing.

  “That’s great,” he said, continuing to laugh. She lowered her hand, joining his laugher.

  “I’m glad you think so,” she said, shaking her head.

  When his laughter subsided, he curled his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. He sighed. “So how lame is it to say that I really enjoyed that.”

  “It depends,” she said, tracing abstract shapes onto his chest with her index finger.

  “On?”

  “If you mean the joke or the sex.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I have no shame in enjoying that joke. I’m going to write it down as soon as I get home. I’m going to tell my grandparents about it.

  She laughed, slapping at his chest. “You are not.”

  “Maybe I am,” he said in mock seriousness. “You don’t know what kind of relationship I plan on having with my future offspring’s offspring.”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “I meant the sex,” he said, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

  “Oh, in that case, totally lame. So, so lame. Just…the lamest.” She was smiling, and he smiled back, reaching over to poke her again.

  “I thought so,” he said, as if he were somberly resigning himself to his lameness.

  “But if it makes you feel any better, I believe I’m also just as lame as you.”

  He smiled, saying nothing, closing his eyes and heaving a huge, contented sigh.

  Chapter 13

  Monica slowly rose into consciousness, aware of the sunlight assaulting her still-closed eyelids. She moved slightly, stretching her feet, and recognized the feeling of an arm wrapped around her. The arm was attached to a chest that was pressed against her back and a pelvis and legs that were curling around her. She was being spooned. She opened her eyes, blinking in the sun and looking down. Jason’s hand was hanging loosely by her stomach, and she could feel his slow, steady breathing in the rise and fall of his chest. She smiled, memories of the night before coming to her foggy brain in spurts.

  She rolled over as quietly and easily as she could, trying not to wake him. His face was totally relaxed, his lips slightly parted. She wanted to trace his features, wanted to run her fingers over his jawline, down his cheekbones, across his full, perfect lips. She’d always thought it was cheesy when someone described a sleeping person as peaceful; it was a cliché after all. But his face—without tension or pretense—deserved no other description.

  Even though she didn’t want to wake him, she couldn’t help but lean over and kiss his lips softly. He grunted in his sleep, his body moving jerkily. She smiled as she pulled away, watching his lips close. He let out a sleepy, involuntary “mmm” sound. She giggled quietly and bent down to kiss him again. When she pulled away, his eyes were dragging themselves open. He looked disoriented for a brief moment, and then he recognized her and a grin broke out across his face.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice a scratchy whisper.

  “Hi,” she replied, propping her head on her hand and smiling as she watched him try to wake up. He closed his eyes again, pulling the hand away from her torso to wipe sleep out of them. He looked adorably like a little kid. When he opened his eyes again, he dropped his hand back to her waist, pulling her toward him, and they kissed each other tenderly.

  “Good morning,” she whispered, pulling barely an inch away.

  “Morning,” he grunted, kissing the tip of her nose. She grinned, feeling like a little kid herself.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked, rolling over to stretch and yawn.

  “Like the dead,” she said, matter-of-factly.

  He looked over at her, that teasing eyebrow cocked and a smirk on his lips. “The dead?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, raising her own eyebrows to ask what problem he had with her choice of phrase.

  “Most people say they slept like a baby,” he said, implying that since she wasn’t like most people, she was weird.

  “Most people are dumb,” she said flippantly, rolling onto her back and crossing her arms in mock consternation at his insult.

  “Wow!” He followed his exclamation with a long whistle. “Someone’s cocky,” he teased.
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  She rolled over, amused anger playing across her face. “You know babies, actual babies, don’t sleep through the night, right? They wake up, like, every two hours needing food or a new diaper or just plain old attention.”

  He chuckled at her defensiveness.

  “I’m right!” she demanded, offended.

  He chuckled again, but before she could yell at him he added, “You are, you are, I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head, her jaw clenched in both frustration and the effort to conceal her smile.

  “Thank you,” she said, conceding begrudgingly. “And how did you sleep?” she asked, poking his side as she did so. He recoiled from her, and she made a mental note that he was ticklish.

  He thought for a moment, a smirk still playing at the corners of his lips. “Like the ocean,” he said finally, sounding triumphant.

  She scrunched up her brow, squinting her eyes at him and trying to decipher his statement.

  “Wet and salty?” she asked, mocking him.

  “Nope. Deeply.”

  She burst into laughter, and he grinned at his success.

  She laid her head down on his chest, sighing as his arm curled around her.

  “I like your apartment. It really feels like it’s your home,” he said after a moment, and she smiled, looking around proudly. “How long have you lived her?”

  “Three years.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She raised her head, cocking her eyebrow at him accusingly.

  “Oh, yeah? You knew that already?”

  He sighed. “Yes, sorry. It’s in your file.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart palpitated. “My file!”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking regretful.

  “Oh my god. What else do you know about me?”

  “I’m sorry, Monica. You were a job assignment first. We check into literally everyone when we’re working a case. I have backgrounds on Alan’s landlord, his school professors, his college roommates, his drivers, and his family.”

  “Do you have background on my family!” she demanded, sitting up.

  “No, no,” he said, holding out his hands in a surrendering motion. “You checked out, so we didn’t look into anyone else associated with you. I mean, the guys are looking into your friend now, what’s her name, Lisa? And her boyfriend.”

  “Bobby,” Monica said, relaxing a little. Then she poked him again, a little harder this time. “What else do you know about me?”

  “Older brother, married 5 years, one child. Mother, an accountant with a mildly successful business selling her original paintings. Father, a master carpenter. It makes sense that you went into graphic design.”

  She nodded, still feeling completely weirded out. “And?”

  “I know where you grew up, all the schools you went to, though I didn’t memorize them, we just checked them for links to Alan and other known members of the organization. The jobs you’ve had, again, not memorized, except for your current one. Um…”

  He looked hesitant, and she raised his eyebrows, letting him know he had no other option but to continue.

  “Your basic medical records.”

  “Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head and adjusting herself aggressively to sit cross-legged, facing him. He sat up as well so that they were on the same level.

  “Appendix out in college, right?” She nodded, sighing in exasperation. “Broken arm in high school. Nothing else major. I also know your travel records.”

  “That makes sense,” she said begrudgingly, her shock subsiding instead of turning into anger. “It’s an international organization, and you need to know if I have any links to the foreign guys.”

  “You got it,” he said, sounding slightly impressed. “And I know your legal record. Which is only a couple traffic violations, and—”

  “Shoplifting my junior year in high school.”

  He chuckled. “A misdemeanor. You should’ve gotten it expunged.”

  She shook her head. “I left it there to remind myself not to be so stupid ever again. Besides, most employers only ask about felonies.”

  “You’re such a hardened criminal,” he taunted, pinching her inner thigh playfully. She smacked his hand and stuck her tongue out. “Mature, too,” he chuckled.

  “Do you know what I stole?” she asked pompously.

  “Nope. It had to have been under five hundred dollars, though, for it to just be a misdemeanor.

  She nodded. “You get three guesses.”

  “Or what?”

  “I won’t tell you,” she said definitively, crossing her arms; her lip twitched as she tried to keep away a smile.

  “Hmmmm, let me think.” He placed his chin on his fist, like the statue of the Thinker, scrunching up his face comically. She pursed her lips, refusing to smile.

  “A slip-n-slide!” He shouted with such enthusiasm that her whole body jumped. She was laughing without restraint.

  “Nope. Though I definitely wish it had been now.”

  “Slip-n-slides are the best,” he said in mock seriousness. “Let’s see…was it…a salad spinner?”

  She giggled, shaking her head. “I’ll give you a hint, I tried to get it out under my shirt.”

  “Oh, well, then it must have been…a watermelon!”

  She made a sound like a buzzer, “Ahhhhnnnn. Oh well, guess you’ll never know.”

  “No, no, that’s not my final answer; I meant a… horseshoe.”

  She shook her head, straightening her shoulders and attempting to look authoritative. “I’m sorry, sir, but you are out of guesses and are therefore disqualified.”

  He thrust his bottom lip out and crossed his arms in front of him, hanging his head in a pout that would have given several toddlers a run for their money.

  “Did you learn that you get what you want by pouting?” she asked with mock condescension.

  He chuckled, relaxing, “I learned that it sometimes works based on the combination of comic relief and my sheer adorableness.”

  She couldn’t help but grin.

  “You really want to know?” she asked, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top of them.

  “Only if you want to tell me. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It was a pack of cigarettes.”

  He gave a long whistle again, either as if he was really impressed or she was really naughty.

  “Wow. I didn’t know you were such a badass,” he said, winking at her.

  “Shut up,” she said, hiding her face in her knees. She looked up again, shaking her head. “It was exhilarating, actually, right up until I got caught. First time I ever stole something besides my brother’s secret stash of candy when we were kids. I didn’t smoke, either, but I was friends with a few seniors who did and I wanted to impress them.”

  “I bet you did.”

  “Yep. Not the way I wanted to though. But they were impressed, nonetheless.”

  “Technically, as an official upholder of the laws of this land, I cannot condone such blatant disregard for them. But I left my badge in the car, so I’m free to say, that’s pretty badass.”

  “Oh brother,” she said rolling her eyes.

  “I mean, by the standards of what I do for a living, that’s child’s play. But speaking as a former sixteen-year-old boy, that’s pretty badass.

  “Have you ever stolen anything?” she asked, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back on her hands.

  “No, ma’am. My record is as clean as a good shave.” He drew out his words with a badly done southern drawl.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He placed his hand on his chest, looking shocked and offended, but then he chuckled. “I stole my grandpa’s pocketknife once. My mom made me tell him, and he just shrugged and said ‘I was going to give it to him anyway.’” So really, we’re lucky I didn’t get the wrong idea about stealing and breaking the law.

  “Or you and I wouldn’t have met.” She didn’t mean it in such a serious way, but one corner of his m
outh stretched to the side regretfully. “Which I’m oddly grateful for at this point,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

  “Okay, so,” he said, clapping his hands as if he was getting down to business and sitting up straighter. “To put us on fair ground. Only child born to parents, both in the military, so I learned to be really independent quite quickly and I also learned strict routine and discipline before I was potty-trained.”

  “Wow,” she said, looking mildly horrified.

  “It wasn’t bad,” he said, shrugging. “They’re both pretty fun, actually. He teaches at a marine academy and she runs a civilian boot camp that they founded together.”

  “Wow,” she whispered, eyebrows raised.

  “I spent a lot of time with my grandfather because they were both deployed throughout my childhood. He wasn’t military, so I got a little bit of balance there. He was a farmer, actually.”

  “Really?” Monica had never met anyone who grew up on a farm.

  “Really. He farmed eggs; his chickens were free-range before it was so trendy. And he had sheep that he’d shear for wool, a decent-sized vegetable garden, and a bunch of acres of woods that he sold lumber from.”

  “That’s so cool! You grew up on a farm?”

  “Part time, yeah,” He looked amused at her interest. “Never been to a farm?”

  “Fourth grade field trip to the dairy farm count?”

  “Definitely,” he said, and they both chuckled.

  “Does he still run the farm?” she asked, wondering if Jason would inherit it and picturing him in a cowboy getup, tossing corn to a bunching of clucking chickens.

  “No, he’s retired. My uncle and his family run it. I like visiting it, helping out every once in a while. There’s no workout like chopping and carrying firewood for twelve hours straight, let me tell you. But it’s not something I could do every day.”

  “I get that,” she said, nodding.

  “Okay, what else? I went to about as many schools as there are states in the union. College was military. I wasn’t lying about studying forensics.”

  “That’s one thing,” she said with a wink.