Blind: Killer Instincts

by Sidney Bristol

  Emma tucked her feet under her. He held his breath as she crawled across the cushions like some sex kitten until she invaded his space, one arm braced on the side of the sofa. He didn’t move, wanting to see what she would do. She studied his face, so close now he could see flecks of gold in her brown eyes. She’d come to him. Last night he’d promised himself he wouldn’t bother her.

  Not unless she came to him.

  He threaded his fingers through her loose hair, but it was her who leaned in, closing the distance between their mouths until he felt the whisper of air on his skin. He’d thought about her mouth, her lips, and kissing her again last night and all through the day. He curled his fingers in her hair, tugging her closer.

  The timer in the kitchen screamed the second her lips brushed his. She smiled against his mouth. He pulled her closer. One touch of skin on skin wasn’t enough. He could eat her up all night long, given the opportunity, but then he’d burn the whole house down.

  She sat up, grinning while he glared.

  “Tease,” he muttered.

  “Hey, I don’t lack follow-through.”

  Her laugh followed him all the way into the kitchen.

  Jacob pulled the chicken out of the oven and paused to adjust himself. What had he been thinking when he suggested she come over? Oh right, having a nice, private discussion about an ongoing investigation, which he was not supposed to do. But, there weren’t a lot of people who understood the draw of this case, how it had changed his family. Hell, Emma might not really get it, but at least she understood why a copycat bothered him so much.

  In a matter of a few minutes he had the chicken parmesan plated and served at the dining table.

  He could feel Emma’s gaze on him, as if she weren’t undressing him with her eyes but stripping away layers, leaving him on edge and slightly raw. He wanted to push her onto her back, kiss her, and forget the meal. If she knew what he was thinking, she’d run from him.

  “Smells amazing.” Her foot bumped his leg under the table as she twirled the pasta on her fork. “Anger issues, huh?”

  He paused, utensils in hand. Anger was the tip of the iceberg. He learned control, tricks to manage his short fuse, and to never initiate intimacy unless he was calm. Emma stirred insistent needs in him that weren’t controllable. But she didn’t need to know that.

  “Yup.” He focused on cutting his chicken into neat, precise bites.

  “I called Daddy today. Well, I called, and my mom answered. Their TV antenna’s down so they haven’t seen the news. I told her to make sure they didn’t fix it. The last thing anyone needs is Daddy on a binge.” She sighed and took a dainty bite.

  “I thought they were off the grid completely?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  He shrugged. The less he knew the better.

  “How was that? Growing up with him, I mean? Mom said it changed Dad.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember, of course. I was still a baby by the time TBK got really going on that last spree.”

  “Daddy’s pretty fucked up in the head, but he and Mom were together before it all happened. I think she thought she could save him, which is why she’s stayed with him through the cheating and the drinking.”

  “Did he ever get physical with her or you?”

  “Oh yeah.” She shrugged it off as if it were okay her father had laid a hand on her.

  “What?” His vision hazed red, and he gripped his fork tighter than was necessary.

  “Look, it wasn’t like he beat us or anything. I’m not saying it’s okay, but every now and then he’d get really drunk and start in on something. We knew to stay out of his way—”

  “Your file. It was his fault you got arrested, wasn’t it?”

  Emma sat up a little straighter and stared at her plate.

  “Shit.” He dropped his fork and leaned back, crossing his hands behind his head.

  “Do you look to see if all your dates have records?”

  He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

  “You must be a blast to date. Do you get reports whenever your girlfriend get a ticket?”

  “No.”

  “Lighten up, sheesh.” She blew out a breath and propped her chin on her hand. “You told me last night you knew. I don’t like thinking about that. And yes, the only reason I was driving drunk was because he tried to put a bullet in me. We were all drinking that night, but he got it in his head he’d do me a service and kill me before someone else did. Cops got me a few miles down the street. I got off light, all things considered, especially since Dad was firing his gun and causing a stir with the neighbors. Cops had more than a crying girl to deal with. What I did was wrong. I knew it then, and I know it now, but all I was thinking about was that I needed to get away. Fast.”

  Jacob nodded. He’d known that, but it was different hearing her say it instead of reading the report for himself. Her parents had lived in Oklahoma City still, and she’d barely been past twenty-one. Hell, her mug shot made her look all of sixteen. Emma was hell on wheels. Nothing would keep her down.

  “You know my less than desirable history, and I know you struggle with anger management issues. We’ve both survived families branded by a killer, and we are now reliving their nightmare. What other topics should we hit on tonight? Politics? Religion? Take your pick. Might as well get the other touchy topics out of the way.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t side with either of the major political parties.”

  “Me neither. They’re almost the same thing now, just different stances on what they spend tax dollars. Religion?”

  “I’m...spiritual. Parents were Baptists.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’m spiritual, too. Never been big on church, but I think there’s got to be something—bigger—out there.”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  Emma smiled slowly as she chewed. “There, all the awkward topics are off the table. Unless you want to talk about sexual partners? I mean, we can hit all the tricky stuff at once.”

  Jacob laughed despite the absurdity of the conversation. “I’m practically married to my work.”

  “I’d believe it. I can smell the stress on you. You should lighten up a little. Maybe take up boxing? Or MMA. Those little shorts those guys wear are hot. I bet your ass would look really good in them.”

  “You’ve been checking out my ass?”

  “Hell yes, just like you’ve been looking at my boobs.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Hey, my boobs are pretty great, so I don’t blame you for looking.”

  Jacob found himself relaxing, which was unexpected.

  She placed her fork and knife on the plate before pushing it away from her a bit. She sat up a little straighter, folding her hands one over the other, and leaned forward, her gaze full of mischief. What was she up to?

  “I have to use the restroom,” she announced.

  That was not what he’d expected.

  “Hallway behind me, first door on the right.”

  He watched her sashay away from him. She was a free spirit and rough around the edges. They had little in common besides TBK. And yet, he was drawn to her, which made no sense at all. At least not until his cock factored into the equation, and then there was no question what he wanted from her.

  Emma stared at her reflection and blew out a breath.

  What the hell was happening here?

  She braced her hands on the counter and hung her head forward. She didn’t need to pee. She needed to clear her thoughts.

  When Jacob had asked her to come over, she’d expected two things. The first was to discuss the copycat. The second wasn’t a guarantee, but she wouldn’t turn down sex. Now, with all their cards on the table, her palms were damp, her pulse was too quick, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the way he put food in his damn mouth. She wanted that mouth back on her. And not in a one-time-only kind of way.

  Desire was something she embraced, but this level of lust was burning her up from the inside out. She almost wondered if
he drugged her food, but considering he was a rule-following type, she doubted he’d do that. Then again, he didn’t need drugs to get in her panties. She’d throw them at him if he wanted her to. And he was a cop!

  It made no damn sense, which was how she found herself hiding in the bathroom.

  What kind of a date included talking crime scenes and serial killers? She choked out a bitter laugh. Of course TBK would touch even this part of her life. Hell, even for a few years, whenever she raced, people called her “that TBK girl.” But she was more than her family history, and so was Jacob.

  She ran warm water over her hands to chase the chills away.

  If only she’d met Jacob another way, another time, maybe things would be different.

  But who was she kidding? A man like him had no reason to want her for anything other than a good time. He had a career, probably went to school, and he had his shit together. She was living out of boxes, had barely passed high school, and all three of her jobs depended on her physical abilities. They were completely different people. Totally wrong for each other. But they had two things in common: a shared history, and a lust as palpable as the meal she’d eaten.

  Emma was hard-wired for relationships. It was a fact. There was no fooling herself about the future here. A night, that’s all this was. The banter was just talk. There weren’t more dates, he wasn’t interested in her beyond what she could give him, and really, she didn’t need another boyfriend right now. She needed to be on her own.

  Emma shook the water droplets off her hands and dried them before exiting the bathroom. The table was cleared off, and Jacob was in his cozy, country kitchen, leaning into the refrigerator.

  One night. That’s all this was.

  She added a little sway to her hips as she rounded the bar, and Jacob turned to face her.

  The dishes from dinner were gone, the counters cleared except for a gallon of Blue Bell ice cream and a spoon.

  “Hope you like vanilla.” He dug a spoonful from the carton and held it out toward her.

  “Mm.” Emma leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the chilled metal, holding Jacob’s gaze as she slowly licked the frosty treat off the spoon.

  His gaze narrowed, focused on her lips. She licked them just to see what he’d do.

  Jacob’s lips compressed into a tight line and he spooned up another bite of ice cream, shoving it in his mouth before neatly selecting a smaller bit and offering it to her. Blue Bell had to be about the best ice cream on the planet. It melted on her tongue all rich and creamy, which made it completely understandable to groan in the sheer pleasure of tasting it.

  He stabbed the spoon in the gallon and captured her face between his hands.

  About damn time.

  He pressed her back against the island, his hips pinning her in place. Though his hold was fierce, he slowly lowered his face to hers. Was he giving her an out? Or slowing down?

  She strained toward him and finally—finally—their lips touched. The ice cream flavored the kiss and his hot mouth warmed her cold lips. She twined her arms around his neck, through his hair.

  He lifted her and set her on the counter with ease. She liked a man who could toss her around like that, it was a definite turn-on. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him back against her body, letting her hands rove over him.

  “You should tell me to stop,” he whispered against her cheek.

  “Why the hell would I do that? Am I going to catch something from you? Any unwanted party favors?”

  “What? You mean a STD or STI?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  She shrugged. “Lucky for you I got my latest results in. Clean and on the pill. I’ll ask again, why should I tell you to stop?”

  “You should.” There was a tortured twist to his voice that tugged at her heart.

  “Then you shouldn’t have invited me over, because I don’t run.” She slipped her hands up under his shirt, relishing the feel of his hard body under her palm. He’d taken her by surprise last night, and she hadn’t been able to really appreciate him.

  “Damn it, Emma, this isn’t a good idea.” He pushed himself backward, breaking her hold on him.

  “What the fuck?” He had to have known, after last night, what would happen if they were in the same room again.

  He gripped the edge of the countertop as if it were his life-line.

  She shoved off the island and planted her hands on her hips.

  “I really didn’t invite you over for more than food,” he said.

  “Okay, lie to yourself if it makes you feel better.” She rolled her eyes and walked toward the dining table and her purse. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t beg.

  “Wait.” He caught her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

  “What, Jacob? You want me, then you don’t. Shit. I don’t play these fucking games.” She twisted her arm in his hold, and he actually let her go.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You’re pretty damn confusing for a dude.”

  “I know.” He gripped the counter again, his gaze searching her face for—something.

  Emma couldn’t tell what was going on in his head. Something bothered him, but she didn’t know if it was her, or them, or maybe it was just sex. Some people were weird about it.

  For some crazy reason she wanted to ease this burden weighing him down. Give him a reason to smile. But if he was determined to wallow, that was all on him.

  “Look, it’s not you—”

  “Oh please, don’t give me the ‘It’s not you; it’s me,’ line.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Emma.”

  “What? What is so damn bad about me? Or are you that complicated?” She stalked to the table and snatched up her purse.

  Jacob followed her, blocking her path. His gaze was shuttered, lines bracketing his mouth and marring his brow. She wanted to reach out and smooth the imperfections away, kiss his mouth until he smiled again because he didn’t seem to do that enough, but he wasn’t her responsibility. She didn’t have to care about him, even though she wanted to for some fucked up reason.

  “I don’t...want to—hurt—you.”

  She stared at him, running the sentence through her head. Well fuck.

  “Is this about the anger management issues?”

  He nodded.

  “So what? You get angry during sex and smack a girl around or something?”

  “No, nothing like that,” he blurted, slashing his hand through the air.

  “Then what? What’s so horrible you’re pushing me away and lying to yourself? You knew this would be more than dinner. You’re a smart guy. At least I think you are. Even you should be able to feel chemistry.”

  “Fuck.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

  Was he going to pull it together? Or should she leave now and figure out where her vibrator was?

  “You said that already.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I get—rough.”

  Rough sex? That was what this was about?

  “Is that it?” She dropped her purse on the table. “You do know I’m a mechanic, and I race dirt bikes, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She closed the space between them and looped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what kind of girls you’ve been with before, but I don’t mind a few bruises if the sex is good.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering until she felt him relax a bit.

  “I’ve scared others,” he mumbled.

  “Did they tell you to stop?”

  “No.”

  “Would you have if they told you?”

  “Of course.” He jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

  “Hey, I’m just asking.” She pulled him once more into her embrace. “I don’t know what kind of porcelain dolls you’ve been fucking, but I think you need a new type, Detective.”

  “What type would that be?” He dropped his head until their brows rested against each other.

 
Me.

  The whisper in her head was her voice, but it scared her. She had no business being with a man like him. Her edges were rough, but so were his.

  She laid her finger over his mouth. “You talk too much, anyone ever told you that?”

  He shook his head.

  First time for everything.

  Jacob moved so fast that one moment she was standing, the next he’d picked her up, crossed to the dining table, and sat her down on the edge so hard her teeth clicked together. A surge of adrenaline flooded her system, and for a second she hovered between the edge of fear and excitement. He loomed over her, hands around her wrists, holding her palms to the table.

  Oh, hello there.

  She chuckled, the sound deep and husky in her throat. Someone’s bad side was coming out to play. She let her flip-flops fall to the floor and curled one leg around his thigh.

  The hard lines on his face hadn’t eased, but neither had he moved. Was he waiting for her to fear him? Was this his attempt to intimidate her? She hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t run. Besides, scary wasn’t the word she’d use to describe him right now.

  Emma arched her back and strained against his hold, but he remained out of her reach. He held her there for a moment, completely in control. She wasn’t the kind of girl who craved a man to dominate her, but there was something about a hot, in-control guy that pressed all her buttons.

  He let her wiggle her hands from his grasp. She grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugged it up, and worked it over his head and shoulders without his help. He seemed frozen to the spot, which was fine by her. There was plenty of him to explore and touch.

  She kissed his cheek and down his neck while she acquainted herself with the dips and curves of his chest and all those sleek muscles. He had a body honed from use, not one of those muscle-bound gym bodies. Later she’d have to become more intimately introduced. Now, she needed to give him a little motivation.

  He wanted to play rough? Well, she could do that.

  Emma gently bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder as she dug her nails into his pecs and raked them down.

  Jacob sucked in a deep breath. She let go and smoothed her hands over the nail tracks. He dug his hand into her hair, wrenching her head back and taking her mouth. He nipped her lower lip and thrust his tongue into her mouth. The flavor of the ice cream was a distant memory, but she moaned at the taste of him.