by Jill Shalvis
“That’s good,” he said. “Boredom will kill you.”
She felt as if there was a hidden meaning there. Was he trying to tell her he was bored? Maybe one part of his life was boring, like his love life? Or perhaps he thought her work sounded boring.
Who knew?
She used to be so close to him she could almost read his mind. Now he was a stranger to her. A gorgeous, half-familiar stranger.
“So, what do you think about my brother as a coach?” she asked to get them back to a neutral subject.
“He’s a good guy. He works us hard, doesn’t put up with any bull. Used to be nobody had time to practice, we’d show up at games and hope to hell nobody got hurt since we don’t heal as fast as we all used to. Now, he’s getting us working more as a team which is obviously critical if we want to do well at the tournament. He got us thinking about building a team being like building a fort. Frankly, I think we all thought that head injury had done him in. But a few drills that stressed team-building and it started to come together.”
“Maybe I’ll come and cheer you guys on in Portland,” she said. Portland was where the big tournament would be held.
His gaze caught hers and she felt the strength of him, the stunning connection she still felt to him. “That would be great.”
They chatted about the team’s chances and then the last of her milk shake was sucked dry, and Greg had eaten both his burger and half of hers. There was nothing to keep them here any longer. But how she hated to let him go.
In the parking lot, there was a moment of hideous awkwardness. Did she hug him? Shake his hand? Kiss him on the cheek?
He seemed equally stuck in uncertainty. Finally, when the moment stretched a little too long, she gave a nervous giggle and opened her arms to hug him.
He took her in, squeezed her to his big body. Then pulled away quickly. “See you around,” he said.
She felt as though she could barely breathe. “Yeah,” she managed. “See you around.”
She drove home. See you around? What kind of crap thing was that to say to a person. See you around.
She did a few Saturday errands, picked up some things at the organic grocer in her neighborhood. And then went for a run along the path that edged the beach. The air was cool and bracing. The water was gray, the seabirds gray, the distant mountains a darker gray. When rain began to fall she didn’t stop. She’d grown up in Vancouver so she was used to it. Besides, the drops were cooling. The exercise helped calm her a bit, but the truth was that since she’d seen Greg this morning she’d felt on edge.
Truth was, she was sexually starved. She hadn’t had a man in her life for a while and seeing a specimen of pretty much solid testosterone was reminding all her girlie bits that they’d been starved for too long. That’s all it was.
Running helped calm her but it couldn’t quench the restless heat coursing through her body.
She jogged back to her apartment, took a long shower.
While she was combing out her hair, her door buzzer went.
She wasn’t expecting anyone. She put on her robe and answered the intercom.
“Sam, it’s me.”
There was only one “me” who could fire her up at the mere sound of his voice uttering a few words over an intercom.
A sweet, familiar ache began low in her belly. “Come on up,” she said.
3
GREG HAD NO IDEA WHAT he was doing entering this woman’s apartment. He’d argued with himself back and forth since they’d parted in the restaurant parking lot.
But she was like an addictive drug. One taste of her was never going to be enough.
So he’d gone to her place. He knew where it was, like he knew a lot of things about her in the peripheral part of his brain. He wondered if she’d kept the same casual tabs on him over the years.
She wasn’t home. He’d been so keyed up to see her, talk to her, something, that the disappointment felt like a blow.
He’d been about to drive away when he saw her jogging toward him, her form still trim, though she’d become a little curvier with time.
He gave her fifteen minutes to shower, thought that ought to be long enough for anyone. Then he called up.
When she answered, he didn’t know what to say. Had no idea why he was there. But she didn’t seem to care. She’d invited him up, and here he was, outside her door.
He took a deep breath. Raised a hand to knock and to his horror realized it wasn’t quite steady. He’d faced down deranged, drugged-up killers, been called to scenes of terrible tragedy, and had always kept a steady head and hand.
Now he was going shaky over a woman? A woman who’d dumped him and pissed all over his broken heart?
He must be losing it.
But that didn’t stop him from rapping urgently on her door.
She opened it. She stood before him in a silk robe that barely covered her thighs. The V-neck gave him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. Her hair was a damp mess falling down her back.
He stepped inside.
She shut the door.
For a moment they simply stared at each other, then she leaned forward, rose to her toes and put her lips on his. And just like that, lust sucker punched him.
He had his arms around her before he could even think about stopping himself, about restraint, brains, consequences, going down this self-destructive road again with this woman who was as much a part of him and his past as his right arm. With her body rubbing up against him, damp and smelling of all those female potions, and the underlying womanly scent of her, how could he think?
Why would he want to?
Their mouths were greedy for each other, crazy. They kissed the way starving people might eat. His hands were in her hair, fisting in the still damp strands.
She had her hands under the leather jacket he hadn’t taken off, pushing it off his shoulders. He stopped to shrug the thing off, to help her yank his shirt over his head.
She touched his naked chest, dipping her head to lick at him. He plunged under that robe, feeling for her, for her breasts that were round and plump and perfect. Oh, so familiar, and yet somehow new. She moaned when he cupped her, nipped at him, and kept going south.
His blood was pounding, need driving him to take, to give. To possess.
Her hands were working at his belt, but his raging erection and his impatience made it torture.
He pushed her hands away, not wanting to waste the time.
He kicked off his shoes, dragged off his socks, and, while she watched him with those amazing big blue-green eyes of hers, yanked his jeans and shorts off in one less-than-smooth move.
Her gaze traveled up and down, drinking him in and he felt a tiny sizzle of embarrassment along with a need stronger than any he’d ever known.
Sam knew she’d never wanted a man more. Not any man. This man. She loved the darkness of his skin, the tight, hard abs, and the glorious cock standing stiff and proud.
His eyes were dark, liquid, heavy with wanting that matched her own. His breathing was ragged. He reached for her and she loved the play of muscles in his arms. There was a scar she’d never seen before on his right bicep. Later, she knew, she’d ask about it. But not now. For now she kissed the jagged spot.
He reached for the belt of her robe, holding her gaze with his, and when he unwrapped her, she felt not as though she and her body had aged a decade since he’d last set eyes on her, but as though she were brand-new.
His gaze traveled down her naked body and he made a sound that could only be satisfaction. She felt beautiful, irresistible and so hot she was about to explode.
Maybe she wanted him enough to take him right now on the polished concrete floor, but for their first time reunited, she really craved the comfort of her big, expensive bed with the soft linen sheets. She took his hand, led him to her bedroom.
With no ceremony at all, he yanked the pretty duvet back and pushed her to the bed. He joined her there, hot and hard everywhere.
He kissed her
again, deeper, licking into her mouth, toying with her. Then he kissed his way to her breasts where he spent a good amount of time and she was hot and restless by the time he moved down her belly, not as athletic as his, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Before she quite realized his intention, he was pushing her thighs apart with his tough cop’s hands and burying his face in her heat.
Surprise, shock, intense pleasure hit her in a big, swamping wave as he proceeded to use his tongue and lips to savor and delight her.
This wasn’t like a first time, she realized, when they’d both been so tentative and unsure of what they were doing. Now they knew each other intimately. She hadn’t changed that much in a decade and he knew it. He’d learned on her body as she’d learned on his, and there wasn’t an inch of her he hadn’t explored, toyed with, figuring out what she liked, how the whole sex thing worked.
It had been so much fun. How could she ever have known there’d never be anyone else who could give her this kind of pleasure?
Maybe because she’d loved him as she’d never loved again.
Her head dropped back against the pillows and she gave herself over to the sensations rioting through her body. Shivering heat, little electric thrills, and a gradually building tension. When he pushed a finger inside her and rubbed unerringly at her G spot, she couldn’t hold back the cry that shook her, as her body thrust and rocked against him, spilling over.
“I want you inside me,” she said, feeling desperate to be filled.
“Condoms,” he gasped.
“I’m on the p—” Of course. With all the years and who knew how many lovers between them, it wasn’t only pregnancy he wanted to avoid. How sad.
She leaned over to her bedside drawer, plopped a few on the table and helping herself to one, ripped it open. Sheathing him gave her a chance to touch him, to refamiliarize herself with that part of him that had always fascinated her. So different from anything on her own body, and it had given her so much pleasure.
Once more he parted her thighs. Once more she opened for him. This time he looked into her eyes. The intimacy was so shocking she wanted to look away, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.
He entered her and she felt the slow slide of pleasure as her body took him in. Little pulses from her first orgasm sent tiny shocks through her.
Wanting to be closer, wanting more, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him inside her even as he thrust deeper.
It was a fierce mating, two strong, agile bodies thrusting against a shared past, pushing into the present. He had better control now, she noted hazily, as he toyed with her and pleasured her, bringing her up and up, waiting for her.
Their gazes were locked as she came in a glorious rush, and she felt his body climax in tune with hers. The moment was so sweet she wanted it to last forever.
But nothing lasts forever. Not even memory.
He rolled them so that she was snuggled against him. She could hear the bang of his heart begin to slow, his harsh breathing even, and the heat of his skin fade to warm.
Emotion pricked at her eyelids as the rush of remembered love coursed through her body.
“I—” She was panting, lost in a rush of feelings she couldn’t even describe. She what?
“Shh,” he said, kissing her damp forehead.
And with his arms wrapped protectively around her, she drifted off to sleep.
4
GREG WOKE UP WITH A smile on his face and for that moment right before fully waking, let himself bask in the feelings of a warm, sleeping woman curled in his arms, of the scent of her skin in his nostrils and a dark tendril of her hair lapping his shoulder.
By moving his head an inch he could kiss the nape of her neck, one of his favorite spots on her body, and, as he knew all too well, one of hers.
He’d known he wanted her.
And that was all he’d known.
How could he have expected this complicated rush of emotion? Want edged way too close to need where she was concerned, and passion bumped its head against the residual anger he still experienced when he recalled how they’d parted. The harsh words yelled, the insults, the final door slammed.
What was his crime? He’d asked the woman he loved to marry him.
She was leaving for law school and he understood that the best school was on the other side of the country even as she knew there were good schools a lot closer. But he’d supported her dream, hadn’t he? Had he asked her to stay behind?
No, he had not. He’d sucked up his disappointment. Considered briefly traveling out with her, but he couldn’t train to be a Vancouver cop anywhere but in Vancouver. It wasn’t like he had a choice.
So, she’d made the choice for both of them. And because he loved her, because he didn’t want to be separated from her, and he’d wanted her to know that she’d be taking his heart and his hopes and his future with her on that plane, he’d spent all his savings on a ring.
And booked a fancy place for dinner. He thought with a wince that he might have even sprung for red roses, but he was twenty-two. What did he know?
Nothing about that night had gone as planned.
From the second they got to the restaurant he’d started feeling strange. She talked about her new school and how nervous she was about classes and profs and whether she’d be able to keep up, whether she was as smart as she’d always thought she was, whether she had any aptitude for the law.
He’d felt her slipping away.
Maybe that’s why he’d fumbled the next part so badly that he still felt squirmy when he thought about it. He’d said something really smooth, like maybe when she came home she’d be too smart for him.
She’d looked at him with surprise. “I thought you were proud of me.”
“I am. But I don’t want you to get so full of being a lawyer that you forget what’s important.”
Hurt and a shade of annoyance shaded her eyes. “Are you saying I’m full of myself?” She put her knife and fork down, never a good sign in a woman who loved food.
“No.” What was he trying to say? “I love you.”
Her expression relaxed. “I love you, too.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “It won’t be long until Christmas.”
“We’ve never been apart longer than a week. Not since eighth grade.”
“I know. I’m really going to miss you.” She bit her lip. “I can’t afford to come home for Thanksgiving as well as Christmas. But maybe you could fly out for a few days?”
“I start my training course in September. Not sure I’ll be able to go.”
The ring was burning a hole in his pocket and all he could think about was the joy on her face when she saw it.
“We only have a few days left before I leave.” Her voice dropped to husky in a way he loved. “We’d better not waste them.”
He thought he would love this woman for the rest of his life. She was his first, his only, and he knew deep in his bones that he’d never want another woman, not with Sam in his life. His buddies had joked around that once Sam was on the other side of the country, he’d be a free man. But he didn’t feel that way. Didn’t want to be free.
For damn sure didn’t want her thinking she was free.
“I know what I want to do,” he said, leaning forward, taking her hand.
She leaned in a little, smiled at him with those big ocean-colored eyes. “Is it very kinky?” she purred. He gulped. Now or never. His hand was a little unsteady as he pulled out the ring box. Put it on the table in front of her. “I want to tell all our friends that we’ll be getting married as soon as you finish school.” He paused for a second. Wondered why they need to wait so long. “Sooner if you want.”
She’d stared at that ring box as though it were a live grenade, or a poisonous spider, or an engagement ring from a guy you had no intention of marrying.
Where was the welling of tears in her eyes? The amazed squeal? The excitement?
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she whispered.
; “Yeah. I am. I can’t wait to tell everybody. They’ll be so stoked.”
She looked up and as their gazes connected he didn’t see love there, but doubt. “But I’m moving to Toronto for three years.”
“I know.”
“Why wouldn’t you wait until I was done school?”
“Because I want to know that every guy on campus will see that ring and know you’re taken,” he’d blurted. Which wasn’t at all what he’d meant to say, but she’d rattled him. Where were the tears? The throwing herself in his arms and promising eternal love? Where was the chick-flick moment he’d imagined?
She hadn’t even lifted the box to take a peek. She’d stared at him, her eyes now big and sad. “You don’t trust me.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s guys.”
Which he now realized wasn’t the smartest thing he could have said.
“So, are you going to wear an engagement ring too?” she’d demanded in that pissy voice she got when they talked about feminism and stuff. Like there was only one right answer and he was never going to come up with it. “I know how women like a hot cop.”
He’d known her long enough to realize when her mood was dangerous. But he’d been too angry, too humiliated, too hurt that she had so misunderstood him, and he’d picked up the ring box and stuffed it back in his pocket.
“Forget it. Just forget it.”
He’d called for the check and they’d left the restaurant, him with a sour taste in his mouth. The eatery was still there, still one of the top restaurants in town. He’d never been back.
The fight they’d had after they left had been their worst ever. When they were done throwing insults at each other—and they both knew each other’s weaknesses too well—not only were they not getting married, they weren’t even talking.
He held out, stubborn and angry, for five days.
The day that Sam was getting on a plane to Toronto was marked with a big black ring on the family calendar. His mother asked about having Sam and her family over for a goodbye dinner and he came up with some excuse.
