He was playing with fire, and he knew it. His hips ground restlessly on hers, and he savored the feel of skin to skin. But it wasn’t enough, not even close.
Jane’s skin was damp, her breath a harsh rasp. He rolled off her and pushed her feet toward her butt. Now her knees spread wide, but her ankles were still trapped.
He knelt before her and brushed a finger through the lush, wet folds of her sex. When he lightly rubbed her clitoris, Jane came with a raw groan. He slid two fingers inside her as she climaxed, feeling her muscles clamp down and grip him.
Finally, he ripped off her pants and moved his body into position, bumping the head of his cock at the entrance to her still quivering channel. “Invite me to stay this weekend.” As he bit out the words, he entered her a fraction and then withdrew.
Jane licked her lips. Her eyelids rose slowly. “What?” The word was slow, slurred.
He teased again, in and back out. “Tell me you want me to sleep here . . . in your bed.”
He could see on her face the moment she understood the sexual blackmail. Her mouth opened and closed and her chest rose and fell. To her credit, she tried. “I’m used to sleeping alone. It’s more comfortable that way.” Her stubborn words might have been more convincing if her old-fashioned brass bed wasn’t in disarray with rumpled sheets and the scent of sex.
He kept his expression austere. “I want an invitation, sweetheart. And I want you to mean it. ‘Please, Ethan,’ ” he mimicked. “ ‘Please sleep with me and keep me safe.’ ”
She managed to laugh. “I might take my chances with the punk.”
Now she was just being mean. He pulled all the way out and got to his knees. “Okay,” he said calmly. “If that’s the way you want it.”
He slid off the bed and stood up. “Make sure and keep that cell phone charged,” he mocked.
Jane practically vibrated with outrage. “You’re leaving?” She pulled up her pj pants and straightened her gaping top. “That’s police brutality or entrapment or something.”
He leaned against the wall. “Try making that stick. You’re the one turning down a genuine offer of police protection.”
She sat cross-legged on the bed, glaring at him. “Nice. Real nice. The assistant chief of police has to use blackmail to get sex from a woman.”
He leaned against the wall, still nude. Jane’s hair was tousled, and her breasts were only partly covered. His dick was so hard, he ached. He managed a grin, hoping he looked more nonchalant than he felt. “I believe we’ve established that the sex was freely offered. I’m trying to finagle an invitation to sleep in your bed this weekend. But, hey, if that doesn’t work for you, I’m fine sleeping on the couch, sweet thing. Your call. Either way, I’m staying.”
Despite his deliberate provocation, her face softened. “I can’t let you sleep on the couch,” she said, her smile wry. “You might hurt your back.”
He shrugged. “A chance I’ll have to take.”
She scooted off the bed and stood before him, her gaze locked on his bobbing erection. “Do you really think our mystery intruder might try something again?”
When Jane took Ethan’s rigid flesh in her fingers, a sharp, startled breath hissed through his teeth. “It’s a distinct possibility.”
She stroked him slowly, cupping his balls with her free hand. His knees locked, and sweat broke out on his forehead. Her gentle but firm touch was torture and pleasure in a potent cocktail.
She dropped to her knees without warning and guided his cock to her lips. “Okay, then. Consider this your official invitation to have a sleepover. In my bed.” And then his world shifted to black as she took him into her mouth and began to lick and suck and destroy him, inch by inch.
Jane was little better than a novice when it came to oral sex. But having the freedom to tease and arouse Ethan was exhilarating. She didn’t waste time wondering if she was doing this right. Ethan was hard and male and so wonderfully responsive to her touch. His penis reared proudly against his belly, the skin velvety soft over hard, ready flesh. The broad purplish head of his cock leaked fluid that was salty on her tongue.
The taste of him . . . his scent . . . the way his big hands tangled in her hair and massaged her scalp—all of it seemed surreal. But God, how amazing. He was strong and tough and a man of honor. In centuries past he might have been a knight in chain mail ready to defend his lady’s virtue. It touched her that he cared so much.
The fact that she was well able to take care of herself didn’t negate his call to arms.
She sensed when he neared the breaking point. For a moment she considered taking him over the edge. Wondered how it would feel to have that much power over a man. Craved the experience of having him come in her mouth.
But she wanted him too badly to wait.
She stood up and leaned into him, shocked to feel the tremor in his strong arms when they encircled her. His breathing was harsh, his chest rising and falling with each gasp of air. She shimmied out of her top and slid her arms around his waist so she could feel her naked breasts against his hair-roughened chest.
His hands clamped onto her hips. “Jane.” He groaned her name, his face buried in her hair.
She felt the press of his erection at her stomach. For one brief moment of fluttery feminine anxiety, she wondered how something so large could fit inside her. He seemed impossibly large, overwhelmingly aroused.
Bravely, she released him, turned around, and bent at the waist. With slow, teasing movements, she tugged her pajama bottoms an inch at a time off her butt, over her hips and down her legs. Behind her, she heard Ethan curse.
She kicked the unwanted clothing aside and stood there, waiting.
Without warning, Ethan tackled her onto the bed. If she knew more about football, she probably could have called the play. But in an instant, he was on top of her, surrounding her, locking her on hands and knees into a submissive carnal embrace.
His hand parted her legs. The head of his cock nudged at her opening, seeking entrance, demanding she let him in. As he moved inside her, she groaned. Her body stretched to accommodate him, and nerve endings she wasn’t aware of sang with pleasure.
Colors swirled behind her closed eyelids. Every cell in her body seemed to coalesce into a sharp dagger of need deep in her belly. She shifted to accommodate him. He thrust deeper. Hot tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. For years she had dreamed of this, wanted this. Had she known the truth of it, she might have run. If he couldn’t love her, this might destroy her.
To have so much and not all. How could she bear it when he moved on?
He had stilled inside her momentarily, giving her the chance to adjust to his forceful penetration. Now he whispered silly words in her ear, syllables of praise, lust, cajoling, grunts of pleasure.
Her hair fell over her hot face. She felt his sharp teeth at her nape, biting her, marking her. Where their bodies were joined, a tidal wave drew back and waited, poised. Ready to destroy everything in its path.
Ethan’s hips pistoned now, the swollen head of his erection battering her womb. Her arms trembled. Her mouth dried as she gasped for air. Instinctively, she clamped down on his cock and squeezed with all her might.
Ethan gave a roar, thrust wildly, and reached his peak, just as her world shattered in scalding pleasure that went on and on and on.
Ethan knew he needed to say something, but his mind was blank. All his data wiped clean. He blinked his eyes in the darkness, stunned by the magnitude of the quake that had shaken him to his core. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this.
Sex with Jane.
It didn’t compute. Sweet, quiet, amiable Jane. The girl who baked a mean chocolate-chip cookie. The woman who had just jerked him to the top of Mount Everest and flung him headfirst, deprived of precious oxygen, from the high peak and left him to find his way back home.
What did it mean?
She was quiet, too quiet, sprawled flat on her stomach now. He was still inside her, his quiescent f
lesh drained, but still partially erect. He was loath to break the connection, and even though he was on his elbows sparing her the full force of his weight, perhaps she might appreciate it if he moved off of her and gave her some space.
It was the polite thing to do, but he couldn’t quite follow through.
He stroked her forearm, squeezing her narrow wrist in his big hand, feeling the delicate bones. Inside the warm cocoon of Jane’s pussy, his dick came to life. He should withdraw, get a fresh condom. But he couldn’t bear to sever the cord of intimacy that bound them there in this safe, dark sanctuary. He never wanted to leave her.
Snatches of memories flitted across his mind’s eye like an old silent movie. He saw Jane laughing, Jane talking, Jane teasing him and challenging him and urging him on—all with animated joy and refreshing candor.
Though it took an effort, he managed to shut down his brain and concentrate on the physical. Stroking, pushing, rotating his hips to make Jane gasp. She was soft everywhere he was hard, mysterious and familiar all in the same breath. He was drunk with the sheer physical pleasure that funneled through his veins like licks of fire from head to toe. He felt invincible, godlike, as if he could fuck for hours far into the night.
Finally, so close to the edge he could taste the promise of sweet release, he paused and rolled them carefully, putting Jane on top. The five seconds he wasn’t inside her stretched like hours.
Jane’s hands went to his chest for support. Her eyelids were at half mast, her slender frame drooping in exhaustion. He used his thumb to tease her clit. Her whole body trembled. “God, Ethan . . .” Her voice trailed off, as she tried to sit upright.
He bent his knees, feet flat on the bed as he gave her something to lean against. Deliberately he probed where their bodies were joined and found the tiny nub of sensitive nerves. He toyed with it. “Look at me, Jane.”
He could barely get the words past a tight throat, but she obeyed. With her eyes locked on his, he rubbed harder. She gasped. Her back arched. He shoved his dick upward, and Jane cried out, her inner muscles milking him violently as he exploded with a curse and a hard, wild stroke.
It seemed to last forever. Her eyes were closed, her body limp as he supported her waist.
Carefully, he lifted her to one side and laid her down gently. She didn’t stir when he left long enough to dispose of the condom and wash up.
When he returned to the bedroom, he scooted under the covers and pulled her close. She went to him as naturally as if they had been lovers for years.
He felt something tight in his chest. If you’d asked him a few weeks ago, he’d have said he was a pretty happy guy. But this gut-deep contentment was something new. A feeling he couldn’t have imagined, because he had never experienced anything close.
Jane stirred, her hair tickling his chin. He felt and heard her sigh. She tested the stubble on his chin with her fingers. “Ethan, can I ask you something?”
His stomach lurched, and he frowned inwardly. What was he afraid of? He swallowed. “Of course.”
“Why did you never ask me out on a date?”
He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up a hand before he could get a word out, clearly anticipating his answer.
“I was under no illusions,” she said flatly. “Those things we did together, places we went, were buddy outings. I was your pal. But I want to know why. Surely you knew I had a huge crush on you back then, and you dated just about every single woman in town but me. Why, Ethan. Please tell me why.”
He felt like a little boy being scolding for swiping the last of the chocolate cake. Her question was valid. He’d asked himself the same thing on a number of occasions. “Lots of reasons, I guess.” He needed space for this conversation, but he didn’t want to let her go.
“I’ll settle for a couple,” she said wryly.
He exhaled, his heart beating loudly in his ears. No doubt about it. This was a minefield. “Well, in the first place, you were special to me. You were my best friend. I didn’t want to mess that up. If you’ll recall, I never dated any of those women more than a couple of months. I didn’t want that for us.”
Jane sighed inwardly. It had taken more courage than she knew she possessed to ask the question. And even more to hear the answer. She paused to regroup. It made sense in a weird, guy-code sort of way. “And the other reason?” Her hand was on his thigh, so she felt him tense up.
Silence ticked on for several seconds before he spoke. “I think I knew instinctively that you were the kind of woman a man settles down with. And I sure as hell wasn’t ready for that. I may have been serious about my career, but that was about it. The thought of home and hearth gave me hives. I was selfish and immature, but I never meant to hurt you, Jane. That was the last thing I wanted to do.”
“And now?”
It was a valid question. And it deserved an answer. But until he cleared up the mess about the valentines and the stalker, he didn’t want to muddy the waters.
He had some thinking to do. About Jane. About the future. No need to rush.
So, to his shame, he didn’t give her what she asked for. He prevaricated. “I’m here, aren’t I? With you.”
Jane absorbed the disappointment, felt its bitter taste, and then locked it away. She would not let anything sour this moment. She sighed, suddenly sleepy. “So you are, Ethan. So you are.”
As they both drifted off to sleep, she remembered the valentine hiding in the other room. She would send it. And she would pray he decided to share it with her.
If he didn’t, she wasn’t sure what she could do. What she would do. To carry on an affair with Ethan and not have even a smidgen of hope for the future was suicidal. She was smarter than that, wasn’t she?
And was the promise of great sex enough to mask the disappointment of knowing Ethan was keeping things from her? She closed her eyes. She wished she could go back in time and un-send those damn valentines.
But it was too late. Way too late.
She pulled the covers to her chin and snuggled into Ethan’s arms.
She might not have the future, but she had tonight.
Fourteen
Thursday morning Sherry stood in the rear of the Victoria’s Secret store at the mall in Knoxville and flipped through a rack of merry widows. She couldn’t believe she was shopping for such intentionally provocative underwear—skimpy items that she planned to wear while having intimate relations with Randy Temple.
She was a grown woman. She was horny. And she was planning to have sex just for the hell of it. It was no one’s business but hers: not Debra’s, not Ethan’s, not anyone’s. For once, she was putting herself first. And it felt darn good and hugely liberating.
She took an armful of the risqué garments back to the dressing room and started trying them on. The lime green made her look like a little girl playing dress up. The violent candy pink satin turned her into a hooker.
But the soft ivory trimmed in delicate black lace was perfect. Her small breasts plumped up nicely over the top of the corset, and her legs looked longer than they were. The hourglass shape emphasized her slender waist. When she added the thigh-high stockings, it was perfect.
She looked in the mirror and brushed the swells of her cleavage with shaking fingers. The dampness between her legs and the jittery sensation in her belly were alarming. She’d deliberately made herself into an asexual being for years. Getting pregnant out of wedlock, and the accompanying guilt, had screwed up her attitudes about sexual intimacy. After her divorce, it had been a relief to be single and celibate. Now her libido was roaring to life, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
But with Randy, she was willing to try. It wouldn’t last. She was certain of that. But unlike days of old, she was ready to live for the moment and enjoy the relationship for as long as it played out.
She wouldn’t marry again. She knew the truth. One day she would watch her daughter fall in love. Hopefully Debra would give her mother grandchildren to love. It would be a good life . . . a
full life.
But for the moment Sherry had a fleeting opportunity. A chance to resurrect the sexually deprived woman buried deep inside her.
Randy Temple wanted her, and she wanted him back. If she didn’t die of a heart attack in the meantime, she was going to seduce him tonight.
As she drove back to Statlerville, the innocent pink bag resting beside her on the other seat, she remembered the tender way he had cared for her when she was so sick. If she hadn’t already been halfway in love with him, those hours would have done the trick.
Lots of men wanted an easy lay. It took someone special to give unselfishly, expecting nothing in return. In her misery and suffering, she had let him stay the remainder of Sunday. But come Monday morning, her head slightly clearer and her temperature mostly gone, she had forced herself to be strong. With gratitude and faint embarrassment for the things he had done and seen, she booted him, ever so gently, out the front door.
Yesterday, when she took food to the police station at lunchtime, she and Randy had chatted. But it was a brief conversation and ultimately unfulfilling. So last night she had screwed up her courage and called to invite him for dinner. This evening.
His voice had sounded taken aback, but he accepted immediately. Now all she had to do was remember how to act like a woman—a sexual woman, not a mom.
Hopefully it was like riding a bicycle. But then again, she’d never had much luck with that either.
Ethan clamped down on his guilt over using his badge for a personal agenda, and proceeded doggedly ahead with Operation Valentine. It was the only time he could ever remember deliberately crossing the line between professional business and selfish priorities.
He soothed his conscience by reminding himself that his mystery admirer might prove a threat to the public. It was a stretch, but it was all he had.
After 9/11 and the anthrax scare, the postmaster in Statlerville had applied for and received a grant to install security cameras in the main downtown branch. The tapes were logged and filed away on a regular basis, but to Ethan’s knowledge, no one had ever had any reason to study them. After twelve months, the old tapes were wiped clean and the process started over.
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