Wrapped Up in You

by Jill Shalvis

  “My God,” she breathed, horrified. “What did he hit you with, a baseball bat?”

  “She. And it was a car.”

  She let out a breath and let her fingertips rest on a small, but thankfully much older scar on his right shoulder.

  “Bullet,” he said.

  With a grim frown, she traveled down to another scar on his left flank, also old. She touched it and he shuddered a little.

  “Knife.”

  She met his gaze. “I thought you were a small-town sheriff.”

  “I am.”

  “I figured that meant chasing bears out of Dumpsters and driving drunks home,” she said.

  He smiled. “There’s plenty of that too.” Bending his head, he brushed his mouth along her jaw to her ear, which he nipped lightly, drawing a sigh of sheer desire from her.

  “There’s a lot more to your job than I imagined,” she said, ashamed to realize she’d not given it a lot of thought before. He’d chosen a career that meant walking into danger, where most people ran away from it. That took a certain type of man. A brave one, certainly. One who cared for others enough to risk life and limb.

  While she was thinking this, he was busy sliding his big hands from her waist to push her jeans down past her hips. “You’re just about the best present I’ve had in . . .” He shook his head. “A long time. I’m going to unwrap the rest of you now, Ivy.” He lowered his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Slowly . . .”

  She shivered. “I don’t do slowly.”

  “I’ve noticed.” When he had her jeans to her thighs, he cocked his head to take in the sight of her standing there in a black lace bralette and a matching black lace thong and let out a rough groan.

  She put her hands over his to shove her jeans the rest of the way off, but he merely twisted his wrists and took her hands in his, bringing them up to his mouth to brush a kiss over her knuckles. Then he picked her up and set her ass onto the coffee table. Dropping to his knees before her, he slowly pulled her jeans the rest of the way off before tossing them aside.

  When his hands settled on her thighs and gently urged them open, creating a space for him, she readily complied with a happy noise, because now, finally, they were going to get to the good stuff.

  “Yes,” he murmured on a rough laugh against her throat, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. “The good stuff is coming. And so will you.”

  She shivered in anticipation, making him groan. Belly-to-belly now, chest-to-chest, the inside of her thighs cradling his hips, he slid his hands up her arms, her throat, and into her hair.

  And then he finally kissed her again.

  The whole time moving so slowly she was at once quivering with anticipation and sheer frustration.

  “Patience,” he whispered against her mouth. Still amused, damn him.

  Okay, yes, so she’d not been standing in line the day patience had been handed out, but seriously. How long could he drag this on for?

  A long time, as it turned out. First, he kissed her until she was panting and writhing against him and rocking up into his hands every time they swept over her. And they did this with slow, purposeful intent, his thumbs stroking over the dainty little lace bra that wasn’t doing much to keep her breasts contained, until she honestly couldn’t remember why she’d held him off. Hell, she couldn’t remember her own name.

  Somehow she’d managed to get his jeans unbuttoned and filled her hands with what she desperately wanted inside her, and by his reaction, he felt the same.

  He had a strap of her bralette down one shoulder, a mouth on her breast, his tongue and teeth teasing her nipple, whipping her into a whole new kind of desperate frenzy, when she couldn’t take anymore. Tearing her mouth free, she fisted her hands in his hair and lifted his head.

  His eyes were two hot molten pools of dark chocolate.

  “What’s the male version of a cock tease?” she demanded. “A vagina tease? Stop being a vagina tease!”

  “What seems to be the exact problem?” he asked, his voice sex-on-a-stick.

  Was he kidding? “We’re still wearing too many damn clothes and you’re not inside me!”

  His hands slid to her ass, and thanks to the thong, she felt his warm, work roughened fingers squeeze bare cheeks as he rose, her clinging to him. She’d never been so grateful for such tightly enclosed living arrangements in her life because he had only to turn to climb onto her bed. Her back hit the mattress and when she felt him laughing, she looked up at him standing at the foot of the bed.

  “You have so many pillows, I’m not sure I’m going to fit on there with you,” he said.

  Oh yes, he would, and to prove it, she began pushing pillows off the bed to the floor in earnest, in a hurry to get him where she wanted him most. This made him only laugh harder, which he was going to pay for. When she kicked the last pillow off, she got up on her knees and slid her hands south, wrapping her fingers around him and stroking.

  He stopped laughing, nudged her flat to her back, and set a knee on the bed. With a smug smile, she bent her leg and put a foot to his chest. “Still overdressed, cowboy.”

  Taking the hint, he backed off the bed and stripped out of the rest of his clothes. When he was magnificently naked—and she did mean magnificently, the guy was a work of art—he once again put a knee on the bed. “Now who’s overdressed?”

  She began to tug her bralette off with haste. But here was the thing with bralettes . . . they didn’t have any hooks. It was an over the head deal, which was fine if you were alone getting dressed in the morning. No one had to witness the stupid, awkward maneuvers one had to go through to get the thing in place.

  Getting it off was just as ridiculous, but she did her best to mimic the easy, graceful way he’d stripped. Only she failed, because she got herself good and stuck halfway, with the bralette across her face, arms up. “Dammit. Don’t look yet.” She struggled harder for a beat and then froze when she felt his hands on her thighs, sliding northbound.

  Okay, this was still going to work. He was going to help her.

  But his hands stopped low on her hips, his thumbs hooking in the lace waistband of her thong.

  “A little help?” she asked, somehow just by his touch utterly frozen in place with her hands above her head.

  “Shh.” He began to slowly—of course—so slowly she wanted to scream, drag her panties down at the very same time that his mouth captured a bared nipple. This had her struggling anew. She felt him smile against her, but that didn’t stop her from finally freeing herself of the bra with a huff.

  Still on a mission, Kel shifted a little lower, kissing and teasing his way down her body, making himself at home between her thighs, which he held open with those broad shoulders. But his mouth wasn’t where she desperately needed it. Nope, he’d stalled at her hip, which he nipped with his teeth before soothing the spot with his tongue.

  “Kel.”

  Again she felt him smile against her as he moved south, to the top of her thigh. And then her inner thigh. And then . . . finally, and then. He found the spot, the very best spot without any instructions, guidelines, or a treasure map. Her body tightened and her toes curled. A little unnerved by her shocking, over-the-top reaction to him, she froze for a beat.

  Turning his head, he gently kissed her inner thigh. “Still with me?”

  She bit her lip, glad he couldn’t see her face from this position. “I think that you know that I’m very much with you,” she managed as lightly as she could.

  “You still want this?”

  “Again, I think that’s obvious.”

  Lifting his head, he met her gaze. She did her best to hold it. “I want to hear you say it, Ivy.”

  She drew a deep breath and gave him the utter truth. “I want you,” she whispered. “In me.”

  “This first,” he said huskily, stroking his fingers over her wet, quivering flesh. “I want you to be with me all the way.”

  “Where else would I be?” she asked, both his words and actions h
aving her stomach doing that butterflies-on-crack routine again.

  He flashed her a sexy smile and . . . went back to what he’d been doing. Which was that thing that had her breathing like she was trying to outrun a speeding train. It was good, so good she heard herself panting his name like a chant, a plea . . . And when their gazes met across her writhing torso, that was all it took for her to come.

  When she could breathe again, she stared up at the ceiling and had to laugh, finding it exceptionally funny that this had been the best sex she’d ever had and he hadn’t even gotten inside her yet.

  Kel crawled up her body and licked the hollow of her neck where her pulse was still racing before coming into her field of vision, his eyes dark with heat and male satisfaction.

  “Show off,” she whispered.

  “I’ve had over a whole week to fantasize about doing that to you,” he said. “I suppose that freaks you out.”

  “No.” She ran her hands down his body to wrap around what she was starting to think might be her favorite body part. “It makes me even more impatient.”

  At her touch, his head fell back. When she stroked, he groaned and kissed her hungrily before reaching to the floor for his pants, coming up with a condom. Watching him roll it on was a sexual act all in itself, so much so that she sat up and had to add her hands to the cause. He was just so beautiful. The cut of his body, the way he moved, the low timbre of his voice, how he looked at her, the feel of his hands as they caressed her into quite the state . . .

  When he sank inside her, deep, her soft moan mingled in the air with his rough, heartfelt groan, and she thought it was maybe the best moment they’d ever shared.

  He stuck to long, slow strokes at first, his body hard against hers, his mouth at her throat, then her ear, telling her how good she felt, the things he still wanted to do to her, the explicit words revving her up all over again.

  As she lost herself in his arms, she felt it overtake him too. His eyes closed and he made a rough sound of pleasure that turned her on almost as much as the physical act itself. She knew the exact second he let go and surrendered, and she held on for all she was worth, stroking her hands over him, touching everything she could possibly reach.

  After, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him to cuddle her close as he caught his breath. And that’s when she knew she’d been wrong before, because this, this in-between moment was her favorite moment they’d shared.

  Ivy had no idea how much later she came awake. It was still dark, but Kel was on his side facing her, head propped up on a hand, watching her sleep.

  “Was I snoring?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He smiled when she gave him a shove, and not budging, he pulled her into his big warm body. He had her tucked beneath him, working his way down her body with his diabolically clever mouth when he suddenly froze and then quickly untangled himself from her.

  “What is it?” she murmured, already missing his heat.

  He put a finger to her lips.

  Blinking to try to see him in the dark, it was her turn to freeze when she heard it.

  The sound of someone rattling the knob of her front door.

  Her heart knocked hard against her ribcage as old instincts kicked in. Rolling off the bed, she came up on the other side, her faithful baseball bat in hand, the one thing Brandon had ever given her, which she kept under her bed. “I’ve got this,” she said. And in that moment, she meant it. She was ticked, completely pissed off about being messed with, and entirely over it.

  Kel held up his hand and gave her an accompanying hard look, both of which very seriously and intensely said stay. His gun glinted in his hand as he turned to the door.

  Right. He was good at this. This is what he did for a living. But she was pretty sure he didn’t usually do it buck ass naked.

  Chapter 17

  Let’s do double time

  Kel got to the door just as it slowly began to open. Grabbing the intruder, he yanked him inside and shoved him up against the wall. The guy was of average height and build, but with a better than average ability to fight.

  Good thing Kel was trained and also pissed off, because both worked in his favor. He held the asshole still and realized he could feel Ivy breathing down his neck. “Seriously? I told you to stay put.”

  “This is my apartment,” she said. “No one tells me what to do.”

  Ignoring her, Kel held the guy face flat to the wall. “You picked the wrong place tonight.”

  “I’m not here to pick the place. I’m looking for Ivy,” the guy managed to say.

  Kel felt Ivy’s surprise. “Why?” he demanded.

  “Hey, man, let go.”

  Instead, Kel pushed him even closer to the wall. “Why.”

  Ivy flipped on a lamp and went hands on hips. She’d put on a shirt.

  His.

  Kel was pretty sure that was all she was wearing, which was still a whole hell of a lot more than he was. “Brandon,” she said tightly. “The idiot’s name is Brandon.”

  “Your brother?” he asked in stunned disbelief.

  “The one and only.” She didn’t look happy at the reunion.

  Which made two of them, because just as with Ivy’s tales of this guy, something wasn’t ringing true here. He turned Brandon from the wall. The guy had the same fiery red hair as Ivy, spiky on his head, as well as a scruffy beard, but it was his eyes that held Kel’s attention. One was the same startling blue as Ivy’s, the other green. He glanced at Ivy. “I thought he was in New York.”

  She nodded. “Me too.”

  “Hey, here’s an idea,” Brandon said, words muffled since his face was planted into the wall. “Maybe you could put on pants.”

  Kel let go of him and strode past Ivy to the bed, where he retrieved his jeans from the floor and pulled them on. When he’d buttoned them up, he realized brother and sister were standing there, just staring at each other. Not exactly the loving greeting of siblings who hadn’t seen one other in a long time. Granted, his sister had smacked him upside the back of his head when she’d first seen him, but he’d deserved it.

  Made him wonder exactly what Brandon had done to deserve that worried, wary expression on Ivy’s face. “Two a.m. is an odd time for a visit,” he said.

  Brandon lifted a shoulder and went with an affable smile. One, by the way, that matched Ivy’s.

  Which she wasn’t flashing now.

  “Wanted to see my sister,” Brandon said. “It’s been a while.”

  Ivy was hands on hips. “What happened to New York?” she asked.

  “Actually, it was Mexico . . .”

  “You in trouble again?” Ivy asked.

  “Who, me?” he asked and grinned.

  Kel would bet all the clothes he wasn’t wearing that Brandon had been in Mexico either finding trouble or running from it. “So if I was to look you up right now, there wouldn’t be any outstanding warrants?”

  Brandon laughed, but kept looking at Ivy. “Had no idea your tastes run to cops now. Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

  Ivy cut her eyes to Kel for a telling beat, but hell if he knew what it meant before Brandon continued. “We need to talk, sis. Alone.”

  “Hell no,” Kel said.

  “Kel,” Ivy said softly.

  He shook his head at her. “He was breaking in here, you realize that, right? And you’ve already had two other break-ins. What odds do you want to lay down that we just caught our guy?”

  Brandon’s easygoing vibe was still in play when he met and held Ivy’s gaze. “Look, I just need to borrow your car. Like old times.”

  “The last time you borrowed my car you totaled it.”

  Brandon had the good grace to wince. “Yeah, that was my bad. But that was years ago. I’ve matured.”

  She snorted, and again Brandon smiled, in on the joke. “Okay, so that’s unlikely to happen,” he admitted.

  Ivy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t have a car.”

  Brandon nodde
d and then sent her a long look, and at whatever had been silently communicated, Ivy turned to Kel.

  “No,” he said. No way was he leaving her alone with this guy.

  “Listen . . .” She pulled him aside, and stepping very close, peered up into his face. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She gave him a pat on his chest, like she was soothing him. “He’s my brother, Kel. He’s not going to hurt me. He might be an idiot—”

  The “idiot” in question snorted. He’d moved farther into the apartment, pacing around.

  Ivy glared at him. “An idiot and a break-in artist,” she added. “But he’s not violent. It’s okay, Kel. You can go.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

  “Yes, you are.” She went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly. Sweetly. “I’ll be fine.” She squeezed his hand. “Really.”

  Brandon came back toward them and made a point of looking at his wrist like he was eyeballing the time.

  Ignoring this, Kel kept his eyes on Ivy. “You’ll call me if you need me.”

  “Of course.”

  He shook his head. Then he strode toward Brandon and yanked her brother’s backpack off his shoulder.

  “Hey,” Brandon said.

  Kel opened the flap on the backpack and pulled out Ivy’s laptop.

  Ivy glared at Brandon.

  “Oops.” He shrugged and gave a rueful grin. “Sorry. Old habits.”

  Kel shook his head, scooped up the rest of his and Ivy’s discarded clothes and tugged her with him to her bathroom. “Don’t move,” he warned Brandon. “And if you touch anything else, I’ll remove your sticky fingers for you.”

  Brandon lifted his hands in the universal “I surrender” position.

  Kel shut the bathroom door and waited until Ivy looked up at him. “So,” he said conversationally, pulling on his socks. “He seems nice.”

  Ivy closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Not your fault. But you could’ve told me the truth about him.”

  She looked away.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that she’d clearly lived in a world where believing in people had gotten her nothing, and worse, possibly hurt. “How about your friends?” he asked. “You don’t trust them with yourself either?”