by Virna DePaul
“Don’t,” she said, voice clipped.
“Don’t what? Don’t call you beautiful?”
“I’ve seen the women you date. I can’t compete.”
“You’re wrong. They’re the ones that can’t compete with you. But it’s not a competition. It’s just life. Trying to do as much good as you can but also not forgetting to take the pleasure you can, too.”
“Pursuing pleasure is a luxury I can’t afford right now.”
“I have a feeling you’ve been telling yourself that for a while, haven’t you?” He sighed and stood. “I’m sorry. We’re talking in circles and you must be tired. Let me know if you need anything.”
He smiled gently and turned to walk back into the bedroom. Panic wound through her. Suddenly, all her logic and arguments and defenses dropped away. All she knew was she couldn’t stand for him to leave her. “I need you,” she blurted out. “I want pleasure, Jase. I just—I just don’t know how I can have it and do what I’m supposed to do, too.”
He froze. When he turned back, he looked as stunned as she felt.
The longer he stared at her, the more she regretted her foolish words. “Never mind. I don’t know why I said that. You’re right. I am tired. I—”
He knelt down next to her and cradled her face in his hands. “You’re a good cop, Carrie, but you’re more than that. You have to let yourself be more than that. If you need me, you have me. I’m right here. If you want pleasure, I can give it to you. I want to give it to you.”
“But it’s not that easy,” she said, her eyes growing moist. She blinked rapidly, commanding her tears away.
“How long has it been since you’ve allowed yourself to be pleased, Carrie?”
She averted her eyes. “I do things for myself all the time.”
“Let’s start with the most obvious answer. Sex.”
Her breaths were escalated now, but hearing Jase mention sex made the air rush completely out of her lungs. “I’m not sure we should be discussing this—”
“How long?”
“Six years.”
He didn’t appear shocked by her answer, which irked her a little. Her first instinct was to ask how long it had been since he’d had sex, but she was afraid the answer would simply make her feel worse.
“Why so long?” he asked without a hint of judgment. “If nothing else, sex is usually a great stress reducer. It should be enjoyed. Freely given and freely accepted.”
She pulled away and his hands dropped. “Nothing’s free. Everything comes with strings attached.”
“Sex shouldn’t. And it wouldn’t. Not between the two of us.”
She stood. “Right. So you’d still respect me as a cop once you’d had me naked and under you? Once you’d been inside me? You wouldn’t think maybe it gave you rights? To protect me? To tell me what to do, on the job and in the bedroom?”
Jase rose slowly. “Is that what other men you’ve been with have done? Slept with you and then started bossing you around?”
“With me and men? It always becomes a power play, with them needing to prove they know best and can teach me a thing or two whether I want to be taught or not.”
“Slow down. Are we talking about a man trying to dominate you in bed or out?”
“There never seemed to be a difference, in my experience.”
“Then you need more experience.”
“Says the voice of experience,” she said drily.
Jase shrugged. “Like I said before, I’m more discriminating than you give me credit for, but I certainly haven’t been abstaining for six years. One thing’s for sure, who we are at work won’t have anything to do with who we are in bed together.”
“That’s certainly true given we’re not going to be in bed together. I’m comfortable right here on this sofa.”
“You sleeping on my sofa is the safe thing, but it’s not what either of us really wants, is it? But I have to admit, this whole conversation has me a little confused about what you’d really want in bed. I don’t mind a woman who’s assertive in bed and takes what she wants. It doesn’t threaten me to be with a strong woman. Does it threaten you to be with a strong man?”
He was watching her carefully. So she chose her words just as carefully. “This conversation is going in circles. Men who use their strength, whether in bed or out, tend to use it to get what they want, not to give others what they want.”
Fury, then something that looked perilously close to pity flashed across Jase’s face. “I think I’m beginning to understand. And I’m not liking what you’re implying. Have men hurt you in bed, Carrie? Have they used their strength to take what they want whether it was something you wanted or not? Have you been raped?”
Carrie’s head was spinning. She couldn’t actually recall how they’d gotten on this topic. One minute they’d been talking about pleasure coming with strings, and the next…
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked around, but there didn’t appear to be a handy escape route in sight. Besides, where would she go? She didn’t have a home to go to right now, and Jase’s bedroom certainly wouldn’t be a good idea. “I’m not having this conversation, Jase.”
His jaw tightened. “And that’s quite an answer. Who was it?”
“Let’s not go there.” Please, she thought. Not there. I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t want you to see me that way. A woman pretending to be strong because all she’s ever been is weak.
“Go where? Into the personal? The uncomfortable? Fuck that. I want you to answer my question. Have you been raped?”
It was the second word he’d uttered that night that shocked her. The first, because it had made her picture the two of them together. Naked and intimate. This one because it made her picture herself naked. Vulnerable. Unworthy. Indeed, she was nothing like the women Jase normally dated. It was best that he accepted that once and for all. She faced him head-on. “Yes. I have. Are you satisfied now?”
He didn’t dignify her question with an answer. Instead, he turned away from her and strode to the window where he clasped the frame so hard his knuckles turned white.
Warily, she watched him. Watched his back heave as he struggled for control. Watched as he wrestled with what she knew would be feelings of anger and helplessness. Yes, Jase was a good cop. He’d be outraged by the idea of any woman being assaulted. But as he’d been telling her, as she now accepted on every level, he did care for her. She wasn’t sure why and she wasn’t sure how deep those feelings ran, but she knew he was hurting for her. And that made her hurt for him.
“Jase, it’s okay—”
He whirled around and pointed his finger at her. “It is not okay. Don’t ever try to pretend what happened to you was okay.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just meant… It was a long time ago,” she said. “But it taught me an important lesson. Men might like strong women, but not when they’re afraid the woman is stronger. Not when they feel threatened. When most men are threatened, they think they have something to prove, however they can prove it.”
“Who was he?” He didn’t move any closer. Did he doubt his ability to remain distant? Was he afraid to reach out to her now that he knew what had happened to her?
“Why does it matter?”
“It just does.”
She hesitated. Giving Jase too much information was a bad idea. They were working a difficult case right now. The last thing she wanted was for him to get distracted by thoughts of avenging her, but she also knew he wouldn’t let things go until she gave him some kind of answer. “A college boyfriend. But there’ve been men since him who’ve walked the line. And I’ve decided I’m sick of walking that line. I’d just as soon pleasure myself, if you get what I mean.”
“Oh, I get what you mean in spades. And I understand why you would think that way. But do you really think I’d ever use my strength to hurt you? To do anything that you don’t want, in bed or out?”
“No. I don’t think that, Jase.”
He closed
his eyes in relief. “Thank God.”
She couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore. She moved closer. Closer. Until she was right in front him. Until she could place her hand on his shoulder.
That’s when she noticed he was shaking. “Jase?”
He pulled her toward him and buried his face in her neck. The arms he wrapped around her felt desperate, but they made her feel safe. Loved.
This strong man cared so much about her that he was shaking over something that had happened to her years ago. She stroked his hair. “Shh. I’m okay, Jase.”
He was quiet for a long time. So quiet that she pulled back and cupped his face, making him look into her eyes. “I’m okay, Jase,” she whispered. “You—you make me feel okay. You make me feel like I can be strong and less than strong, too.” It was true, she thought. She’d exposed her weakest self to this man yet he made her feel far from weak. She felt worthy. Worthy because he cared for her. Wanted to protect and pleasure her.
And she wanted him to, she realized.
Now. This very moment.
Tentatively, she touched her finger to his mouth. Instantly his eyes flared with desire. “We got off track here, Jase. I—I said I need you, remember? And you said you were here for me. Has what I told you changed that?”
He frowned. “Of course not, but what you’ve told me—”
“What I told you is my past, Jase. The future can bring something else. Pleasure. No strings attached. If it’s what you want, too.”
Staring at her, he didn’t smile. He didn’t joke. He didn’t reassure her. Not with words. Instead, he studied her expression, looking for any sign of hesitation or fear on her part. Finding none, he reached down, took her hand and led her into his bedroom.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JASE HAD NEVER BEEN so conflicted about bedding a woman before. Conflicted, hell. He was scared out of his mind right now.
What she’d told him hadn’t changed his feelings for her—he still wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman—but it did make him uncertain about how to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to scare her or bring back bad memories.
He wasn’t surprised to learn what she’d gone through. With her military and police background, Carrie would have met and attracted a lot of men who would have been equally drawn to and repulsed by her strength. That a man had crossed the line to prove his power to her didn’t surprise him, especially because it had happened when she was in college. She would have been young and still trying to figure out her place in the world.
She couldn’t have known that her place in the world was right here with him.
God, she’d been raped. Carrie. His strong, tough, passionate Carrie had been violated in a way that made him want to kill someone. At the same time, it made him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her away someplace safe, where danger and pain could never touch her.
But that could never happen. Darkness and pain were parts of Carrie’s life the same way they were his. Plus, she’d hate him for trying to protect her. For seeing her as less than capable of protecting herself.
So he’d take what she’d offered. The chance to show her that while she was strong, she could be more—and less—than that, too. He could admire her for being the cop, but he could offer the woman something, as well. Pleasure. With no strings attached. Just as he’d told her.
As they stopped in front of his bed, Jase thanked God that he didn’t fold easily under pressure. As much as he wanted to savor the pleasure of being with Carrie, he knew something momentous was on the line here. He wasn’t just about to please a woman sexually, he was going to solidify or destroy her preconceived notions about men and their inability to handle a woman that was strong yet vulnerable, feminine yet tough.
Jase wouldn’t have a problem with her strength in bed. He wanted her to take what she wanted, especially if what she wanted was him. The question was, how was he going to proceed tonight?
The only answer he could think of? He’d proceed exactly how Carrie wanted to proceed. Whatever she needed from him, he would give her. But she’d have to be the one to decide exactly what it was she wanted from him. All he knew was that he wanted her.
He’d take her however he could get her.
* * *
CARRIE WASN’T SURE if she was about to make the biggest mistake of her life or if she was finally being brave enough to reach out for what she’d wanted for so long but had been too afraid to take. To distract herself, she looked around Jase’s bedroom, liking the clean lines and simplicity of it. It was like him—attractive and compelling without too much effort, yet the effort was there. Things matched. Reflected care and good taste. But nothing was overblown or garish. His private space showed he took care of himself and enjoyed the finer things in life but that he was a man of substance, too.
Once again, she wondered what she was doing here. Why he even wanted her. She wasn’t like the fine things he filled his life with. The expensive tailored suits. The hundred-dollar haircuts. The expensive bottle of wine he’d ordered at dinner. She was more common. Simpler. Plainer. She was vanilla ice cream to his dulce de leche gelato. She was steak and potatoes to his filet mignon and lobster bisque. She was ugly and unfeminine compared to the beautiful women he dated. Beautiful women like Kelly Sorenson. At least, she’d been beautiful, before a killer had gotten to her.
The reminder of the job they had waiting for them in the morning had her frowning. He’d said it was important to look for beauty and pleasure when they could, not in spite of the job they did but because of it even, but it didn’t seem right, reaching out for pleasure when there was such dark, horrible stuff happening in the world. When there were boys like Kevin Porter that were being shot by cops like her and leaving their grandmothers to grieve and—
“Shh,” Jase whispered as he framed her face in his big hands again. “I can tell your mind’s going a million miles per minute. Come back to me, Carrie. Stay with me.”
She shook her head. “We have to work tomorrow, Jase. Kelly Sorenson—”
“Kelly Sorenson is dead. We’re going to do everything we can to find her killer, but the fact remains, we’re alive, Carrie. Here. Now. Whatever we do, no matter how thoroughly we dedicate ourselves to helping victims of crime, we can’t lose ourselves in the process. We have to live our lives, too. So let me help you live. Let me help you feel alive. Let me give you pleasure with no strings attached.”
She stared at him, wondering if this was really happening. Could he be the man to finally give her pleasure and really not expect anything from her in return? Not expect her to bow down to his masculinity afterward? Not expect her to diminish her strength in order to pave the way for his own ego?
Yes, she realized. Jase could be that man. He was good. A good cop. From everything she’d heard and witnessed, he was popular with the ladies and obviously a good lover. He didn’t have anything to prove. Not through her. He was already secure in his life. In who he was. Maybe that’s what had drawn her to him all along.
“Do you have protection?”
“Nightstand.”
With a sigh, she put her arms around his neck. He wore nothing but the baggy pair of pajama pants, and through the thin material of her T-shirt, she felt her hardened nipples drilling into the hard muscles of his chest. She rubbed herself against him, trying to ease the ache that had insinuated itself into all her nooks and crannies, but she couldn’t seem to get close enough. Even with his hard shaft pushing against her through the thin material of their pajama bottoms, it wasn’t enough. She needed all the barriers between them to be gone. Now.
Wrenching away, she swiftly pulled her T-shirt off her head then pushed down her pants and panties in one fell swoop. His eyes devoured her, traveling over her breasts and lower body with a searing gaze that lasered into her and made her feel all warm and gooey inside, like honey simmering over an open flame.
Holding his gaze with her own, she reached out and pushed down his pants and boxers, as well. A
s soon as his shaft sprang free, she encircled it with her fingers. He groaned but kept his hands loose and at his sides, as if he was at her command, willing for her to do with him what she wanted.
But his eyes, heavy-lidded and drowsy, burning with the fire of a thousand suns, blazed into hers and made her feel as if she was the helpless one. The one under his command.
“You said you wouldn’t have a problem with me…taking over. That still the case?”
He smirked and finally lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “Take all you want,” he said hoarsely.
She laughed and pushed him so that he sprawled back onto the bed. Swiftly, she retrieved the box of condoms from the nightstand. Then she climbed on top of him, took what she wanted and relished the knowledge that it was exactly what he wanted, too.
* * *
SHE MIGHT NOT HAVE had sex for six years, but Carrie was far from out of practice. At least, that’s how it seemed to him. Lying flat on his back, he marveled at her graceful movements as she kissed his throat and chest, working her way down his body with flattering enthusiasm. She hadn’t kissed him on the lips yet, something he hadn’t missed and wasn’t about to let her get away with, but for now…
He hissed when she enveloped him. His flesh felt scalded by the wet heat of her mouth and for a moment he closed his eyes to savor it. But he didn’t keep his eyes closed for long. He couldn’t. He wanted to imprint the image of his fingers tangled in Carrie’s glorious red hair on his mind forever. Her body was pale but sleekly muscled, with a solidness that was absent from most fashionably thin women today, but he liked the differences he saw in her. It made her seem more real somehow. Made him feel confident that she could take anything that he dished out and still have enough left over to dish some out, as well. Even though right now he was having doubts about how much more he could handle.
Jase wasn’t ashamed to admit he loved being the focus of a woman’s intimate attention, probably more so than even the average guy, who he was sure loved it plenty. And Carrie seemed to be born for this particular task. She moaned as if the taste and feel of him in her mouth gave her just as much pleasure as it gave him, and if that was anywhere close to being true, he was glad.
