Yours Since Yesterday

by Jennifer Bernard

  “For the world-class fucking we’re about to lay down,” he growled.

  She swallowed hard and realized she was swaying slightly on her feet. Low blood sugar? Or had her blood suddenly drained from her brain?

  He tore off a piece of a cinnamon roll. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  She did as he said, her mouth already watering with anticipation. He placed the flaky pastry on her tongue. The taste of sugar flooded her senses and made her eyes close halfway. She moaned with joy—the kind of joy only delicious food delivered.

  Other kinds of joy had their place too, but food would always be close to her heart.

  “More,” she told him—her turn to give orders.

  “Of course, my queen.” With a glimmer of a smile, he gifted her with another bite. “Feeding you could get to be an obsession. I love how you enjoy yourself when you eat. And while you come.”

  Heat burned in her cheeks. “You liked that?”

  “I loved that. I was dreaming about it all night. Woke up with the hardest erection of my life. Do you know what it took not to wake you up with my throbbing cock?”

  The rough edge in his voice, the blunt words, sent a jolt of heat to her sex. She shifted from one foot to the other. He noticed the movement. Probably knew exactly what it meant, because his eyes went even darker. They were barely blue anymore, more of a deep midnight.

  “So…” She moistened her lips with her tongue. He noticed that too. “What’s going on with that situation now?”

  “The hard-on situation? Feel for yourself.”

  She eased her hand along the front of his jeans. Her pulse raced as his bulge swelled against her palm.

  “Eat your roll,” he told her again. Goose bumps rose along her skin.

  She held his gaze. As good as the roll tasted, she didn’t think she could eat another bite. Not while these wild cravings were flying through her. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He set the pastry bag aside, next to the peonies. Should put them in water, she thought vaguely. Then forgot about them entirely when he continued.

  “In that case, drop your towel.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zoe’s dark eyes widened, the wings of her eyebrows rising over them. Was he being too bossy? He got that way sometimes. But he knew Zoe, knew that if she didn’t like it, she’d let him know. Hell, she’d complained about his damn note.

  “I will,” she said in a husky voice. “As soon as I see a little Padric Jeffers skin.”

  He traced a finger across the creamy curve of her cleavage. Zoe’s body was just as generous as her nature. He loved the way her flesh plumped over the edge of the towel. He saw goose bumps rise wherever he touched. Her breath shifted.

  He hooked his finger behind the knot she’d tied in the towel and drew her a step closer. “My skin isn’t a work of art like yours.”

  She didn’t protest as he teased apart the knot. The towel fell to the floor and Zoe’s glorious naked body stood before him. Breasts proud and full, nipples ripe, each curve melting into the next, all of her encased in the rich buttercream of her skin. He wanted to drop to the floor and worship her, press his face into the dark nest of curls between her thighs. Fill his hands with her ass and delve into her most intimate secret self.

  He reached for her, but she danced away. “Oh no. Fair’s fair.”

  “All’s fair in love and war, don’t you know that?” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door. “Just take a look. Is that fair?”

  He positioned himself behind her so that his clothes—he wore a sweater the color of burnt mahogany and black jeans—set off her pale skin. The contrast was wildly erotic. He shaped her waist and hips, then spread one hand across her lower belly, just above her curls, while the other cupped one breast, as if displaying it for the mirror.

  Her lips parted and she rested her head against his chest.

  “How is it fair that you’re so fucking beautiful? That your nipples look like perfectly ripe raspberries? How is it fair that you can get me this turned on just by dropping your damn towel?” He pressed his erection against her ass to make his point.

  She wriggled that fine ass against him, nearly making him come on the spot.

  “Now that is definitely not fair. Bad girl.” He bent his head to gently take the lobe of her ear between his teeth. A shudder when through her.

  He spread the fingers of his lower hand wider and tangled his little finger in the soft hair just above her clit. When he gave a light tug, she gasped. In the mirror, he caught the gleam of moisture springing between her thighs.

  A kind of wild need gripped him. He had to touch her everywhere, feel everything. His hand around her breast, her nipple rising between his fingers. The knobs of vertebrae under the soft skin at the back of her neck. Her tumble of dark hair against his cheek, fragrant from her late-night shower.

  She convulsed at one point, when his hand glided between her folds to the hot nub of her clit. An orgasm? Not quite—just the sharp pierce of pleasure when his hand met her flesh.

  “Padric,” she moaned. “I need you. You’re making me crazy.”

  That was what he wanted. Crazy. Crazy as he already felt. Crazy as the wild impulses tossing him this way and that. Bend her over. Fuck her from behind. No. Too much. Bed. Too far. Couch. Right here. Wall. No. I want her. So bad. Somewhere. Somehow.

  Then she took things into her own hands by reaching behind her and undoing the snap of his jeans. She lowered the zipper, pushed aside his boxers, and wrapped her hand around his member. “This guy needs to be inside me,” she murmured. “Before I lose my fucking mind.”

  Enough said. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” Hands shaking, he reached inside his pocket for a condom and rolled it on. He tilted her hips so he could reach her entrance more easily, then plunged his hand between her legs again. She jumped and a little rush of hot liquid touched his hand.

  “Not yet,” he told her. “Just wait one second.”

  “Then stop touching me there,” she gasped. “I can’t help it.”

  He eased up on the friction but kept his fingers where they were. She felt too good to let go—juicy and slick and steam-heated.

  With his other hand, he held her hips steady while he eased his rearing shaft into the shadowed entrance of her channel. Just like steering a boat, he thought crazily. Out of the storm and into port. His cock was so hard and thick that he had to pause and let her adjust. She did so easily, deepening the arch of her back to make the angle more accessible.

  He pinched her clit lightly, feeling it swell against the pressure. She gasped and wriggled harder against him. “That feels so good. Rub just a little harder, could you?”

  God, he loved a woman who knew what worked for her. He increased the pace and friction of his stroking, even while continuing to work his way inside her. Her lush body gave way beneath him, inch by inch, opening to his penetration as if the two of them had been made for exactly this moment.

  And maybe they had been.

  When he was fully seated inside her, he forced himself to take a long breath and control himself. Her inner channel held him like a hot fist, and the sensation was so outrageous, he could barely cope.

  Hot, juicy flesh filled his arms and surrounded his cock. He watched her in the mirror as he stroked into her, one hand deep between her thighs. God, she was so fucking sexy. Hell, they both were, together. He looked like another person entirely with his head bent over her and his body impaling her like a beast.

  Her clit surged against his fingers the more he caressed. She ground against him, then quivered as he thrust again, deep and long. He wanted to bite the soft tendon between neck and shoulder, like a lion subduing its prey. But he kissed her instead, a long suckle that sent another deep shudder through her body.

  Her nipples…they called out to him, so proud and erect, so neglected. He slid his hand up her body
, along the deep curve of her waist, to the heavy globes of her breasts. As soon as he brushed his thumb against her nipple, she cried out.

  “Oh God, Padric. Do that. Do it again.”

  He smiled to himself. That was his Zoe, direct and sensual. She’d always been that way about food, so why not everything else as well? He licked his thumb and circled it around her nipple. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gave herself over to the pleasure. For a moment he concentrated only on her, stilling himself inside her so he didn’t come too soon.

  She gave a low moan and clutched his hand tighter against her breast. With her other hand, she touched her own nipple, and the sight of that in the mirror was the last straw for him. He pushed into her, burying himself deep, just a breath before she erupted with a long cry. He held on one more minute, gritting his teeth against the orgasm building at the base of his spine. He kept his hand clamped onto her pussy, milking every last wild spasm from her climax.

  Only when her moans had shifted from desperate to satisfied did he let the reins loose on his own orgasm. It exploded out of him, ripped right from his core. His vision blurred at the edges and he had to hold on tight to her warm body to keep from keeling right over.

  As the last waves faded, he found himself hunched over her, panting as if he’d just finished an especially wild concert.

  “You okay up there?” She reached up and tenderly touched his cheek.

  “No. I’m not okay. You fucking rearranged my atoms.” He laughed down at her.

  “Is that why I saw stars? Atoms rearranged?” She turned and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her soft flesh against him. “I guess that would explain things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how I feel like I’ve never done that before. Even though I have. Of course. But not that.” Her tongue stumbled over the words, and he knew exactly how she felt. That no matter how many times he’d had sex—and he’d had plenty—it had never touched him like this.

  “I think I need to sit down,” he murmured.

  She laughed. “Right behind you.”

  With one last kiss on the top of her tangled dark hair, he shifted his attention to the condom. He got rid of it quickly, then refastened his clothes.

  Still naked, Zoe crossed over to the tote bag he’d dropped on the counter. Riveted by her flushed sensuality, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she sorted through the clothes from Monica and Alexis.

  “Okay, those two are going to pay for this.” She held up the top they’d sent. It was a crop top that said, “Hot to Trot,” over a glitter-maned pony.

  “Oh hell. I didn’t even check what they gave me. I just grabbed the bag and went.”

  “Where did they even get this underwear?” She displayed a pair of leopard-print panties. “I better have a talk with those two.”

  “I don’t know, those are pretty hot,” he told her.

  She spun them around to show off the writing on the back. “Back off, I’m farting,” it read.

  He burst out laughing. “Are they teenagers or nine-year-olds?”

  “A little of both, I think. Also they might be blind. In what world would these shorts ever fit me?”

  She held up a pair of cutoffs that barely had a crotch, they were so short. She put her arm through one of the leg holes. “It hardly fits over my arms, let alone my legs. Those two are dead to me. Oh, and check this out.”

  From the bottom of the tote bag, she pulled out one more item. A hot-pink condom package. “Those girls are in big trouble.”

  “They probably got that in health class or something. People hand out condoms like candy these days. It’s a good thing.”

  “I know it’s a good thing. But they’re my little sisters, and they cause enough trouble as it is,” she grumbled. She turned the “Hot to Trot” shirt inside out and pulled it on. It barely fit over her breasts, and he felt a stirring in his cock at the sight.

  “I guess this could get me home,” she said dubiously.

  “How about this? There’s a washer and dryer for guests. I’ll wash your clothes while you drink your coffee. It’s raining and miserable outside, why not just hole up here for the day?”

  She cocked her head, considering. “Is there breakfast involved in this scenario? Those three bites of cinnamon roll got burned up by all that hot sex.”

  “Oh yes. I bought enough for an army.”

  “So.” She ticked items off on her fingers, one by one. “Flowers. Pastries. Orgasm. Coffee. Jacuzzi. Laundry. Anything else you want to throw in there?”

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yeah. Answer a question for me.”

  “Shoot.” He picked up her pile of grungy hiking clothes.

  “Will you be my best friend? Again?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Zoe would have expected things to be awkward after having sex with Padric for the first time. But the only awkward thing was that she wanted to do it again almost as soon as he left the room with her laundry.

  She felt too good to worry about the fact that they’d tossed a big grenade into their friendship. This was Padric, someone who knew her flaws intimately. He knew she could be hotheaded, and that her pride got in her way sometimes. He knew she feared rejection—or at least he knew that now. He knew she occasionally said things without thinking, and that she was stuck here in Lost Harbor for the foreseeable future. He knew she had disastrous romantic luck. He knew she held grudges. He knew she believed in revenge. He knew that she couldn’t jog much faster than a freshwater snail.

  And he still wanted her.

  And she wanted him, despite the fact that a rock star and a pizza shop owner had no chance of a future.

  Did the future really matter?

  Truth was, she already knew what her future would consist of. She already owned a home and a business. She’d probably be making pizza until she was an arthritic old lady.

  Why not grab this opportunity for something special and fleeting? It would be gone soon enough, when Padric went back to his jet-setting lifestyle.

  A knock on the door startled her. “Hello? Padric?”

  “It’s Officer Badger. Is Padric there?”

  “He’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Can I come in? Official police business here.”

  “Hang on.”

  Oh great. Padric had taken all her real clothes. Her choices were a bath sheet, her sisters’ joke clothes, or stark nakedness.

  She pulled on the leopard-print undies, surprised they actually fit. They were stretchier than they looked. Instead of the micro-shorts, she darted into Padric’s room and found a pair of workout pants. The crop top matched it well enough, and at least it was inside out. Unfortunately, she looked nearly pornographic without a bra. She wrapped a towel around her shoulders.

  Ridiculous outfit for a police interview, but it would have to do.

  She opened the door with as much dignity as she could manage. “Hello, Officer Badger.”

  “Hi, Zoe.”

  Officer Badger—Maya, as Zoe usually called her—swept in. Ever the professional, she showed no reaction to Zoe’s bizarre outfit.

  Strangely, that made Zoe nervous, and she started to babble. “It was such a scary thing, I mean we were pretty rattled last night, so I decided to stay here instead of trying to drive home and—”

  Maya threw up a hand. “Don’t care. Not my business.”

  Zoe relaxed with a whoosh of relief. “Of course. It’s just—”

  “Not. My business.” Maya pulled out a notebook. “I need to interview you both again about the envelope.”

  “Shouldn’t you talk to the desk clerk? He probably saw who left it.”

  Maya blinked at her, a single sweep of her curly eyelashes that conveyed every bit of her unspoken “do you think I’m a moron?”

  “That’s being investigated,” she said briefly. “But I need to talk to both of you, too.”

  “Right, of course you do. Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
r />   “Are you two back together?”

  When Zoe did a double take, Maya laughed. “I’m just teasing. Like I said, it’s not my business. But here’s the thing. Someone in our town has it out for Padric. And you know him best, except maybe for Nate Prudhoe. And now you’re spending lots of time with him, hiking across the bay—”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “The plane crash.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  “And now you’re here at his hotel.”

  Good point. How was she supposed to keep any of this private when they had to keep calling 911?

  “So it’d be real helpful if you could keep your eyes open and do some thinking about who might be pissed off at Padric, and why.”

  Suddenly it clicked, and Zoe understood what she was getting at. “You’re thinking of Reese.”

  “Thought crossed my mind.”

  Zoe swallowed hard. Was it possible that her nasty ex was trying to scare Padric? “He doesn’t even live around here anymore. He moved to Dillingham.”

  Maya wrote that down. “He’s a mechanic, right? He might come down this way for parts or jobs. I’ll check into his travel schedule.”

  Zoe nodded, twisting her hands together. “It’s possible.”

  “I’ll need contact information for your other ex-fiancés, too.”

  Okay, this was officially mortifying. “I’ll give you what I have, but it seems like a reach. Are you sure it’s about me and not something in his life? Oh! You should ask Padric about the PJ parties.”

  Maya made a note. “We’re going to look at everything, including some bad blood regarding the Scandal and the Jeffers family.”

  Alarm bells clanged. “Maya, for the love of God, ask me or my sisters or my exes anything you want. But please don’t bother my mother. She doesn’t even know Padric is here. If you need to talk to her, just let me tell her first. It’ll be better coming from me.”

  Maya’s serious face relaxed into a sympathetic smile. When Maya dropped her severe police business expression, she was gorgeous. “I’ll do that, but it’s very unlikely I’ll need to talk to her. It’s just an angle I need to consider.”