by Jill Shalvis
“I know. You had it under the flowerpot. We’ll talk about that later.”
She pressed her face into his shoulder. “You smell good.”
“Yeah? So do you.” He buried his nose in her hair. “Like vanilla and sugar. Good enough to eat.”
She squirmed at that image. “I made cookies.”
“For the shop?”
“For me.” She sighed. “It’s a destress thing.” She knew she was wrapped around him like Saran Wrap but couldn’t make herself let go. He was strong and solid, and she could feel the even, steady beat of his heart. Hers was still racing. “I’m not dressed.”
“I noticed that.” If her voice was shaking from adrenaline, his was low and husky. His aroused voice, which added an entirely new element to her adrenaline rush.
“Not that I’m complaining,” she said. “But what brought you here?”
He didn’t answer, and it was her turn to pull back a little bit and look into his face. “Uh-oh.” She couldn’t see him clearly, but she could certainly feel the tension in him, tension she’d missed before because she’d been too busy recouping from the nightmare. “Jacob?”
“I was just leaving work.”
“This late?” It was ten-thirty. A long day by any standards, and she was quite certain his hadn’t been spent hanging out baking in a kitchen, or sitting and staring at the waves. He’d been out there, catching bad guys, and probably risking life and limb while he was at it.
“It was one of those days,” he allowed, in what was undoubtedly an understatement.
“Lots of bad guys?”
“Always.” He paused. “And a late call came in.”
More tension, she felt it in his thighs beneath her, in the chest she’d set her head on and in the arms he’d banded around her. She climbed out of his lap, stood and flipped on the light by her bed, because she had a feeling she needed to see his face.
From the floor, he blinked, adjusting to the light as his gaze ran over her from head to toe, slowing at all the places in between. “God, Bella.”
“I was hot.”
His eyes flared, letting her know exactly how hot he thought she was.
“I have to go downstairs in a few minutes and beat up some dough for the morning.” The fib popped out of her mouth automatically. But that’s how she operated, always giving herself a way out with a man. She called it her safety net.
Except at the moment, for the first time in memory, she didn’t want a safety net, and regretted the lie the minute it left her lips.
Jacob remained on the floor. He leaned against her bed, dropping his head back on the mattress and closing his eyes as if afraid to look at her too long. His dark silky hair was tousled, as if he’d shoved his fingers through it repeatedly. There was a grim set to his mouth, and fine lines of tension fanning out from his eyes.
“You look exhausted,” she said softly, and came back to him, curling up at his side, mirroring his pose but setting her head on his chest instead of against the bed.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in. “There was another shooting, Bella. The guy took a hit to the thigh, and should live.”
She looked at him, but his head was still back, eyes closed. “Who?”
“Banning Jefferson. You know him?”
She let out a breath. She didn’t, not that it made it any less horrifying. “No. The name doesn’t ring a bell.” She relaxed slightly, grateful this one at least didn’t involve her.
His fingers brushed low on her spine, against the bare skin between the hem of her tank and her low-cut panties. “Bullet type matches.” Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “In a big city, this wouldn’t be enough to connect the shootings, but here in Santa Rey, we don’t get shootings every day. Not even every month. So just having two in a matter of days is enough to possibly connect them.”
They were close enough to share air, and one thing she already knew about Jacob, he was good up close. Very good. He had a way of looking at her, of touching her, like now, that made her feel both safe and sexy, and that was a lethal combination.
Suddenly she wanted him to use those traits to help her escape, to forget the horror of finding Seth’s body even for a few minutes, and it was all she could do to resist setting her hands on his flat stomach, sliding her fingers over those hard muscles as she leaned in and took a bite of him—
“Look at me, Bella.”
She was. She was looking at his chest and wondering how long it would take to get him out of that shirt…
“At my face,” he said with what might have been amusement.
As if his face was any less dangerous….
Adding an assist, he cupped her jaw and tilted it up to his, looking her over carefully with that intense, all-seeing gaze that made her want to confess to state secrets, and also take off what little clothing she still wore. She squirmed a little, working her way even closer to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Working on it. Jacob?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad I didn’t move to Siberia,” she whispered. “And I’m glad you didn’t move to Siberia.” She brushed her lips lightly over his. “I was really scared tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”
He almost smiled. “You just want me to check for the boogeyman again.”
She dipped her head and brushed another kiss on him, this time on his chest. “That would be great.”
“Christ, Bella.” He ran a hand up her back, wrapped his fingers around her loose, unruly pony tail and gently tugged until she was looking up at him again. “What am I going to do with you?”
Do me was the first thought that came to mind, but he rose and did his cop thing, thoroughly checking out the small apartment, even looking beneath her bed and in her bathtub.
“There’s no one here but us,” she said when he came back.
“I know.”
“Then why did you search the place?”
“So you could go back to sleep.”
Which meant he was leaving. Disappointment settled in her belly, which was ridiculous. She’d been the one to formulate the escape plan. “Jacob?”
He lowered himself to a crouch in front of her, running a finger over her temple, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah?”
Reaching up, she cupped her hand around his wrist. “What are we doing?”
“Other than checking for the boogeyman?”
“Yeah. Other than that.”
He looked into her eyes. “No idea.”
“Casually seeing each other?”
He thought about that a moment, then nodded.
“How casually?”
“Asks the woman with one foot already out of Santa Rey.”
Fair enough, she supposed. She’d made a big deal out of leaving, and he knew it.
“And I’ve done the long-term thing,” he said. “It doesn’t mix well with being a cop.”
Right. She knew this, knew all of it, which in no way explained the ball of discontent deep in her belly. She managed a smile. “I know who you are, Jacob. Being a cop is part of you. No woman should ask you to change that.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “It might be more than the cop thing.”
“Such as…?”
“I’ve been told I can be obstinate, single-minded and doggedly aggressive.” He said this with a tone of slight admission that it might all be true, and she laughed.
“Well, hell, if you’re all that, forget about it,” she teased.
“Bella—”
“No, listen to me.” She grabbed his arms when he would have straightened. “Those are the very things that make you such a great cop.” And, she thought, a great lover. “You’re okay, Jacob, just the way you are.”
He let out a slow, appreciative breath, then took her hand in his as he rose and walked to the front door. There he stopped and looked down at her, not smiling, but his eyes were warm as he leaned down to kiss her.
“Bye,” she whispered.<
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“Bye,” he said against her lips, but instead of opening the door, he threaded his hands into her hair and kissed her again, leisurely this time, allowing his tongue a very thorough farewell.
Her nipples had been hard since he’d first appeared in her bedroom, but the rest of her body joined the fray now, and she rubbed up against him. She’d have crawled into him if she could. “Keep that up,” she managed to say, breathless as hell. “And I’m going to fake another nightmare to keep you here.”
He stared at her from heavy-lidded eyes, then backed her to the door and kissed her again, kissed her until she was gripping his shirt in two tight fists. His erection pressed into her, nestling against the crux of her sex, and he made a guttural sound deep in his throat. “No faking anything,” he said against her mouth.
“Ah, but how would you know?”
“I’d know,” he said firmly, and when she let out a low laugh, he paused meaningfully. “I’m sensing a challenge.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Saying what exactly?” he wanted to know, all male pride and ego, his expression suggesting she’d somehow questioned his manhood or testosterone level.
She tried not to laugh and failed. “Look, faking is nothing but a polite lie designed to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings.”
He blinked, looking genuinely confused. “But why lie at all? I mean, if you’re going to fake, then why not fake not having an orgasm, so that the guy keeps at it?”
“Huh.” She laughed again. “Never thought of it that way.”
He shook his head, his eyes still heated, his body still taut and tense…everywhere.
Hers tightened in response. She was going to have to accept that whenever she saw him, this crazy heat would be there. But also there was more. What exactly that more was, she couldn’t say, but it was a little disturbing given that she’d known him all of a few days.
And even more disturbing, he made her laugh.
God, she was a sucker for that.
She realized he made her both laugh and want, a double whammy, one she wasn’t sure she could resist, or why she even wanted to try.
He was just watching her watch him, another thing she liked about him. He was tough and edgy, a cop through and through, and yet he had seemingly endless patience.
But just behind that patience was hot, simmering passion that took her breath away.
He said her name once, softly, then let go of her hair to slide his hands up her back, and down, cupping her bottom, a cheek in each of his big palms, cheeks that were more than half bared by her scrap of panties. A sound of distinct male satisfaction rumbled from his chest, and he squeezed before lifting her to nestle her best part against his best part.
A movement that had them both stopping to gasp in pleasure.
She didn’t know about him, but she was instantly back to quivering with need, burning up with it. Her breathing was unsteady, ragged, making her breasts brush his chest with every breath of air she gulped.
He ran his mouth over her jaw to her ear while his fingers explored her body. “If I stand here any longer, Bella, you are not going to make it downstairs to deal with your dough.”
“Yeah.” She winced. “Remember when you said I always need an escape route? Well, I usually do, when it pertains to men.”
“And what, the dough thing was it?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
His eyes were two dark pools. “Tell me to go, Bella.”
She opened her mouth to do just that and said “stay” instead.
He groaned and once again pressed her into the door, lifting one of her legs to wrap around his hip, opening her up so that when he rocked again, he slid his erection directly against the core of her. The only thing that separated them were his jeans and her very thin, very wet panties.
“Do you want this, Bella?”
In answer, she took the hand he had on her ass and brought it around until he cupped her. Again he groaned low in his throat, and then his mouth found hers, crushing her lips, his tongue delving deep.
Yeah, she wanted this. And even as she thought it, he lifted her up and turned to her bedroom. Suddenly she found herself airborne and then she hit the mattress with a bounce. With a laugh, she started to sit up but found herself pinned by two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and she shivered in anticipation.
“Cold?” he murmured in her ear, his hands sliding beneath her tank, settling on her ribs.
She shook her head and clutched at him. “No.”
He held her gaze as his hands slid farther north, covering her breasts, his thumbs slowly rubbing over her nipples.
A shuddery breath escaped her.
He tugged her tank up and off, baring her to his eyes, and then his mouth.
Already half gone, she shivered again, and panted his name.
He groaned in approval, then stood to strip out of his clothes, stopping to pull a condom from his pocket.
She’d thought she had the image of his perfect body etched in her brain, but the reality was even better than the memory. Clueless to how gorgeous he was, he kneeled on the bed at her feet. His hands hooked in the material at her hip, slowly sliding her panties down her legs and off before he parted her legs.
And then his gaze skimmed down at what he’d unwrapped for himself. “God, Bella. Look at you.” He kissed a rib, dipped his tongue into her belly button. “I need to taste you, all of you.” Urging her open even farther, his thumb made a slow, barely there graze right over her center, and she nearly came off the bed.
“My toes are curling!” she gasped.
“I have the cure for that.” And he replaced his thumb with his mouth and proceeded to drive her right out of her ever-loving mind. She came with such force that her entire body was trembling, and still he didn’t stop. “Jacob.”
“Making sure you aren’t faking anything,” he murmured against her wet flesh.
She laughed, then moaned as his tongue got busy again, ravaging and plundering as he brought her to orgasm once more before finally releasing her.
When she opened her eyes, he had a forearm on either side of her shoulders and was gazing into her face. She had just enough left in the tank to laugh breathlessly. “Show-off.”
He smiled, a mixture of wicked intent and fierce affection that didn’t just take the last of her breath but also turned her heart over and exposed its tender underside.
What he did next cracked it wide-open.
He entwined their hands beside her head, murmured her name softly, and then, condom somehow miraculously in place, drove into her with one fierce thrust.
“Oh God, Jacob, God…”
He filled her so deeply, so completely, she felt as if he was touching her soul, and her hips rocked mindlessly up to meet his. He nudged her face with his jaw, then looked into her eyes as he moved within her, his thrusts deep and steady.
So good, it was so damn good. That was all she could think, and lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over her, her eyes began to drift shut.
“No, don’t close them. Look at me.”
Somehow she managed to drag them open for him, open and on his, which were letting her in, letting her see what she was doing to him.
Unbelievably, she was on the precipice again, hovering on the very edge. “Please. Jacob, please.”
“Mmm.” He nipped her jaw, then her lower lip. “I like the begging. More of that.”
She laughed breathlessly.
Eyes nearly black with desire, he rubbed his jaw to hers and her laughter faded away. Arching her back, she wound her legs higher around his waist, gripping him as tight as she could.
Now they were hand to hand, chest to chest, breathing as one as their movements sped up, becoming almost frantic, and then, at the very end, she cried out first as she came, hearing and feeling him immediately follow her.
It was the single most sensual, erotic experience of her entire life, and she wondered for the first time how she would ever be able to walk away from th
is.
7
JACOB WOKE UP, THE sun shining on his face. He was alone in Bella’s bed, which was not only a new experience, but also a little humiliating.
He was a cop, for crissakes. As a rule, he slept light, able to wake at the slightest sound or movement.
And yet he’d slept through her leaving, like the living dead.
Of course, he thought, bleary-eyed, as he looked at the clock—7:30 a.m.—he hadn’t gotten all that much sleep. Last night, after having his merry way with Bella in bed, they’d moved to the shower where she’d returned the favor.
And then, starving, they’d ended up downstairs in the shop’s kitchen, where they’d pulled miniature raspberry turnovers out of the fridge at two in the morning, feeding them to each other.
Licking the raspberry filling off each other…
Jacob rolled out of bed and recovered his clothes from where they were strewn across the floor. He had a raspberry stain across his chest in a shape that looked suspiciously like a handprint, and he had a flashback to Bella sitting on the counter, him between her legs teasing her, and her fisting her fingers in his shirt so he couldn’t get away.
As if he’d wanted to.
Probably no one would be able to tell what the stain was from, he decided, and grabbed his gun and cell phone from the nightstand. He took a stab at his hair with his fingers and helped himself to Bella’s toothbrush.
That was all the easy part.
After he’d laced his boots, he made his way down the stairs. He intended to get on his bike and head straight to work, but the back door to the shop was open and the most delicious scents wafted out, making his stomach rumble.
He needed more than raspberry filling.
Bella, her back to him and the door, wearing hip-hugging jeans and a snug red tee, was talking to Willow.
“I can’t commit to the Walker anniversary cake, I don’t know if I’ll be here next month,” she said, and for a minute Jacob forgot to breathe.
“Honey,” Willow said, sounding as if she was having the same problem. “You’re the best pastry chef Santa Rey has ever seen. Please consider staying longer, maybe the whole summer.”
“I don’t know.” She spoke with real regret and steely determination. “I was up front with you from the beginning.”
