Calamity Jena

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Calamity Jena Page 11

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson


  “Coward.”

  Her eyes snapped to his. He was laughing at her. “I am not. I don’t need a demo. If you believe you’re God’s gift to the opposite sex, who am I to burst your bubble.”

  “I promise not to touch any X-rated zones. It wouldn’t prove my point anyway. Any idiot can get a woman hot by going for the obvious.”

  She expected his eyes to drift to some of those X-rated areas, but they didn’t. He held her gaze and waited. Six foot two inches of pure lazy confidence. She didn’t know whether to hit him or strip him.

  “Come on,” he teased. “Don’t be a chicken. I’m trying to make a point here. Otherwise you’ll think I’m all talk. I wouldn’t want you to slander my reputation during one of your girly get-togethers.”

  She chewed her lip as she wavered. The words came out of her mouth before she had time to think on them properly. “No groping or grabbing. If I wouldn’t walk around with it on show at church then you can’t touch it.” This is was huge mistake. Huge.

  “Come on over here, Jena.” His voice was pure seduction.

  With a forced sigh to cover her nerves, Jena moved to stand in front of him. “Now what?”

  “I want you to face the wall. Put your hands on it.”

  “Are you going to frisk me?”

  “Everyone’s a comedian,” he muttered.

  Once she was in position, Jena’s bravado began to waver. “I’m ready.” Although the words came out of her mouth, she wasn’t sure they were true.

  She stared at the wall for a few moments, waiting for Matt to get on with whatever he planned to do. Her anxiety level shot up fast. She was two seconds away from making a run for it when he spoke.

  “I like this top you’ve got on.”

  She’d worn an old pink halter that tied behind her neck. It dipped low on her back but flared loosely around her hips and over the top of her cut-off jeans. The top was one she often wore to work around the house; hence it was paint-splattered and stained in spots. Not exactly the sexiest of outfits.

  “Anyone ever told you that you have a sexy back?”

  Jena licked her dry lips. “Nope, no one. Are you hoping that being corny will turn me on?”

  She heard a chuckle and a thud. She looked over her shoulder to find him kneeling behind her, his focus on her back. His blue eyes had bled to black. A tiny, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  “I wasn’t being corny. I was being honest. Eyes front, Jena. I want you to concentrate on what you feel.”

  She made the effort to roll her eyes. “Whatever,” she told him, but turned back to stare at the wall. Her heart was racing. She was an idiot to let him do this. Especially since the memory of being held in his arms the night before was so fresh in her mind. Yet here she was, going ahead with it anyway.

  “Lots of men ignore the back.” Matt’s voice was a low rumble.

  Jena jerked when she felt his finger trail down her spine. Her skin tingled in the wake of his gentle touch.

  “You can tease and tantalise a woman by touching her back, exactly the same way you can any other spot.”

  Warm, soft lips pressed against the dip between Jena’s shoulder blades. Her eyelids grew heavy. Two large hands rested on the curve of her hips. He trailed his nose across her skin between her shoulder blades. Jena sucked in a breath. She locked her knees in place. And her eyes closed against her will.

  Another kiss lower down her spine. Gentle. Fleeting. Teasing.

  “It helps to coax the woman into the moment if you talk to her about what you’re doing.” Another kiss in the middle of her back. She moved into him, chasing his touch, and heard a low chuckle. “It builds the anticipation for both of you.”

  She shivered. His hands slid under her top to clasp her hips. His thumbs caressed lazy circles on the bare skin above her cut-offs.

  Jena’s head suddenly became too heavy to hold up. She rested her forehead on the wall in front of her. The cool plaster against her skin made Matt’s touch sear.

  “From this position, I can see every tiny vibration of your body.” A soft press of lips to the small of her back. Without taking her top off, he couldn’t go lower. For that, Jena was suddenly very grateful.

  “Your blood is moving faster now. It’s chasing my touch. My lips.” She felt his soft, warm lips against her spine. “My tongue.”

  A small groan escaped her as the tip of his tongue followed the line of her spine back up to the knot of cloth at her neck. The knot that would unravel with one good tug. Jena’s fingers curled against the wall but couldn’t find purchase.

  She heard Matt inhale deeply before a breath of cool air blew across her skin. It caught on the trail his tongue had left behind, making her skin vibrate with sensitivity. She arched away from the wall with a breathy moan.

  “If he’s smart.” Matt pressed against her to whisper in her ear. She was intensely aware of their difference in size. He was huge. Strong. Capable of taking her desire and making it burn. She shuddered at the thought.

  His lips teased the shell of her ear before he nipped the lobe. Her breath caught. Stuttered. “He’ll vary his touch.” The words whispered over her sensitised skin. “Soft. Hard. Slow. Fast. A gentle brush of his cheek against your skin, followed by the sharp nip of his teeth.”

  She felt him match action to words as his cheek caressed between her shoulder blades. His bite was sharp. A sting that morphed into heat. She couldn’t hold back a shuddering gasp.

  He nipped his way down her back, all the while massaging her with his thumbs. His hands never left her hips. His hold like an anchor. She was losing her sense of place and time.

  “Now, if you didn’t have this top on I’d work my way slowly lower. I’d make circles with my tongue in the small of your back as I smoothed my hands up and down your sides.”

  His wide hands spanned her back, sliding from her waist to her shoulders and back. His agonisingly slow movement make her knees tremble.

  “Once I knew you were losing your mind under my touch, I’d turn my attention to your neck. I’d bite down on the curve where your shoulder meets your throat and I wouldn’t be gentle. I’d want you to feel my touch right through your body, waking up nerves, catapulting you to a place where only sensation exists.”

  Yes. Yes. That was what she wanted. All of it.

  “Please…” The word escaped in a gasp and a whisper.

  His breath was back at her ear. “Would you like that, princess?”

  “Please, Matt, please.” She wasn’t sure what she was begging for now. All she knew for certain was she needed more. And she needed it now.

  “Damn, you’re irresistible,” he murmured against her shoulder.

  His teeth captured the muscle that was desperate for his bite.

  “Yes!”

  She felt her top tug free. It fell away, leaving her bare from the waist up.

  Matt’s tongue soothed the bite he’d made as his hands inched around her body to her stomach. Her breasts became unbearably heavy with the desperation to be touched. She needed. Oh, how she needed.

  “Please…” A whisper. A word that was barely a breath. “I need…”

  “Tell me.” His order sent ripples of desire careening through her.

  She wanted to tell him. Wanted more than anything to explain her need, but the words wouldn’t come. Her breasts ached. Her nipples hard and sore from neglect. His lips were a brand on her neck. His hands burning their way across her flesh.

  “Please…”

  “Ah, honey,” he groaned as his hands captured her desperate flesh.

  A wild moan escaped her as she arched and pressed her breasts into his palms. “Oh yeah.” She rolled her forehead on the cool wall.

  His fingers teased her nipples, circling them so lightly she strained to follow his touch. His palms held the weight of her. His broad chest pressed against her back.

  “Matt.” A murmur of need.

  “I know, princess, I know.”

  She was turnin
g. His lips on her throat. His hands left her breasts, and she moaned her complaint.

  Her back pressed against the cool wall as he nipped at her jaw. His hands captured her breasts again. Thumbs flicked over sensitive nipples. She moaned. He absorbed the sound with his mouth and the world disappeared entirely.

  He tasted of sunshine and wickedness. His lips were soft and firm. His touch knowing. He licked his way past her lips to fill her mouth. Teasing her into a sensual dance of tongues and lips. Her hands clung to his shoulders. Her nails digging into firm muscle. Muscle that made her want to touch. To bite. To lick. Oh, her head was spinning. He had her now. She was incapable of anything more than following his lead.

  “Amazing,” he said against her lips.

  “More,” Jena demanded. “Matt, I need more.”

  He leaned back to look at her. The wild darkness of his eyes was a promise.

  One he didn’t keep.

  Jena felt a chill steal through her as she watched realisation register in his gaze. His shoulders stiffened under her touch. His jaw clenched as Jena felt her cheeks heat. Her brain fought its way out of the daze it’d been locked in.

  It was a game. A bet. Not real.

  Her hands dropped.

  Not real.

  Her skin felt chilled as Matt released her. Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached down and pulled up her top. Jena pressed a hand above her breasts to hold it in place. Without a word, he tied the straps behind her neck.

  He stepped away from her. Leaving her cold. Bereft. Fighting the need to beg him to come back. His face was shuttered. No emotion. No hint at what he was thinking. Nothing.

  Matt cleared his throat. “I think that proves my point.” His voice was tight. Forced.

  Okay. Okay. This is fine. I can cope with this. It was a game. He won. It’s all good.

  She took a deep breath. It had gone too far. They both knew it. Only Jena could salvage things between them. She knew exactly what to do.

  On shaky legs, she walked over to him. She pasted a wide smile on her face and smacked him on the abs. “You were right. I was wrong. I can say it; I’m a big girl. It’s clear all those other guys didn’t have a freaking clue how to touch a woman. Maybe you should teach classes? Or make videos for YouTube? The men of the world need you, Matt. It’s your duty to save women everywhere from a life of mediocre sex. You the man, buddy.”

  Matt’s eyes shot to hers before a small smile curved his lips. “You the man?”

  “Oh yeah.” She nodded solemnly. “You the man.”

  He opened his mouth to speak. Jena knew there was an apology coming. She cut it off.

  “I’m so impressed you made me beg.” She kept a grin on her face. Her cheeks hurt, but she’d be damned if it slipped. “Thanks for giving me what I asked for. I know you didn’t want to go that far, but when a girl gets a chance to have a sexy guy’s hands on her body, she takes it. Much obliged.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “Very hot, Matt. Don’t worry; next time there’s girl talk, your reputation will be safe.”

  His shoulders relaxed. His eyes softened. He ran a hand through his hair. Relief. She was watching relief. It bit at her.

  “Okay,” Jena said. “Thanks to you, I need to go upstairs and have a nice, long cold shower. Have fun with the floor while I’m gone.”

  She gave him what she hoped was a cheeky wink before sauntering out of the room.

  When all she really wanted to do was run.

  Matt had taken it too far. He knew the minute he’d put his hands on Jena, and still he couldn’t stop. Her soft pleas undid him. His control had been shot. He looked at Jena’s back as she made a run for it—because that was definitely what she was doing. He couldn’t blame her. She’d been great about his loss of control, but it was still his fault. He was a cop. A cop working to protect a girl. He wasn’t on a date. And even if he was, going by Jena’s track record, he’d probably be in hospital by now.

  He ran a hand over his face, working to keep his breathing steady. Jena had relationship stamped all over her. She was looking for permanent. She’d said it herself in bed. She was looking for a home. Somewhere to belong.

  And he was looking for another job far away from Invertary. One that didn’t bore him to tears or involve any pet rescues. Things with Jena were slipping out of his control. Being around her 24/7 was blurring the line between professional and psychotically horny. It was time to step back and let someone else watch over her.

  Lake had promised a replacement on Saturday. Well, Saturday was here and Matt was ready to be replaced. He was about to call Lake to see where the guy was, when a thump at the front door changed his plans. Hoping it was Lake’s man, Matt rushed to answer.

  It wasn’t Lake’s man.

  “Not going to happen,” Matt said as soon as he spotted Frank Di Marco standing on the front stoop.

  Today’s suit was a black pinstripe, perfectly cut and obviously expensive. If it wasn’t for the matching black shirt and ever-present bling, he wouldn’t have looked out of place in London’s financial district. As usual, he was flanked by his flunkies.

  “Officer.” Frank’s tone was ingratiating. “It’s a free world. You can’t stop me from spending time with Jena.”

  Matt folded his arms. “I can if she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “Look, we had a misunderstanding. I should never have dipped my wick where I worked. I get that now. When you have a sweet piece like Jena at home, you need to make the effort to keep it in your pants.” He spread his hands wide, as though he had nothing to hide. “I made a mistake. I succumbed to temptation. What guy wouldn’t? I mean, if you had access to an all-you-can-eat buffet of willing women, you’d snack too, but that’s all it was, a snack. Jena is the real deal.”

  Matt cast a glance at the men standing behind Frank. The looks of disgust on their faces said it all. Frank wasn’t impressing anyone.

  Frank took a step closer to Matt and lowered his voice, as though letting him into a confidence. “What we had was special. I want it back. I want her back.” His eyes narrowed. “To achieve this aim, I have to talk with her. I have to tell her that I know I didn’t appreciate her. I learned my lesson. No more work pussy.”

  Matt took a step back, shaking off the crawling sensation that ran over his skin. “Good for you. You’re enlightened. You learned what most guys know from the get-go—don’t cheat on your woman. Unfortunately for you, Jena isn’t into giving second chances. She won’t want your wick after it’s been dipped in half the strippers in Atlantic City.”

  Joe smothered a laugh as Matt focused in on Frank. “I suggest, strongly, that you go back to America. Find someone else to impress with your newfound knowledge that a guy never screws around on his woman—no matter if he’s starving and the buffet is begging him to eat.”

  A little blood vessel in Frank’s temple throbbed violently. Matt thought it might burst.

  “Be careful, officer. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

  “No.” Matt took a step back into the house. “I don’t care who I’m messing with. There’s a difference.” He slammed the door shut on Frank Di Marco’s angry face.

  As soon as it closed, he changed his mind about calling Lake. Frank Di Marco was trouble. Unfortunately, he didn’t trust anyone else with Jena’s safety—no matter how well trained Lake’s men were. Nope, it looked like Matt was it for the duration. It was time to start acting like the trained professional he was. It was time to dial back the contact with Jena. She was a job. Nothing more.

  With a plan in place, Matt headed back to the kitchen. It would be good if he got the room finished before he had to leave. Kill two birds with one stone. Yeah, the plan was perfect. He liked the plan.

  Now all he had to do was keep his hands off Jena while he executed it.

  15

  The Donaldson women were known for their propensity to fall in love at first sight. It was a genetic failure passed down from generation to generation.

  Claire�
��s mother swore she knew within an hour of meeting Claire’s father that he was the man for her. She’d only been seventeen at the time, and her father a more mature twenty-one. Against their parents’ wishes, they’d ran off to Gretna Green three weeks after their first kiss and got married by a blacksmith. Thirty-five years later, her mother’s face still lit up at the mention of her father’s name. Great-Aunty Fiona met her husband while waiting in a line for bread during the Second World War. Three days later she was Mrs Johnson. And Granny Bell won the prize for spontaneous decisions. Her husband proposed to her twenty minutes into their first date—albeit a chaperoned one—and she said yes. That marriage lasted sixty-one years and produced eight children.

  Now that Claire thought about it, maybe the genetic trait leaned more towards finding men with no patience rather than falling in love at first sight. Whatever it was, it was still the family curse. Or blessing. Depending how you looked at it. Right at that minute, Claire wasn’t sure which it was.

  She was also terrified it was happening to her.

  Twenty-four hours after Grunt grabbed her outside The Scottie Dog pub and proclaimed her his, she was beginning to think he might be right.

  Megan’s hand landed on Claire’s forehead, snapping her out of her daze. She shoved the hand away.

  “What are you doing?” Claire frowned at Megan.

  “Seeing if you’ve got a fever. I think you’re ill. Maybe a brain tumour. It’s the only explanation I have for the fact King Kong is sitting on our couch.”

  “Stop calling him that.” She pulled an oversized glass bowl out of the kitchen cupboard and proceeded to fill it with Haggis-flavoured crisps. She wanted to give Samuel a wee taste of Scotland, and this was as close as she got, since she wasn’t the sister who could cook.

  “I can’t believe you’re eating this stuff. It’s disgusting.” Megan popped one in her mouth anyway.

  “Well, I’d have given him a nice Scottish dinner, but you wouldn’t cook and we had to make do with pizza.”

  “So sue me. You should have taken him out for your date instead of hanging out here.”

  Claire folded her arms over her fluffy white cowl-neck sweater. “Take him out where? The choice is the pub or a drive to Fort William, and Samuel says he has to stay in town.”

 

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