Between the Lines

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “That’s part of it,” she admitted, then to his surprise leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest, letting out a soft sigh.

  “What was the other part?” he asked quietly.

  She kept her face buried, and he liked how it felt. Finally she sighed again, then spoke.

  “The other part was that I loved you.” She shifted position, now pressing her cheek against him. “I loved you, and I believed that you were capable of taking over the world if you wanted to. Instead, you seemed intent on self-destruction. I couldn’t just sit by and watch.”

  Theo opened his mouth to reply but found that he had no idea what to say to that. Most of the decisions that he’d made over the years had been pondered with Jo’s voice in his ear. He’d done it with an eye to proving himself to her, even though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.

  He had no idea that she’d thought him capable all along.

  A drop of rain splashed squarely on his nose, breaking up his thoughts. It was followed by a sprinkling of rain in Jo’s hair.

  “Shit.” Clouds rolled in, thick as soup, and a bolt of lightning lit up the sky and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight as the electricity charged the air around them. “Let’s run!”

  Jo squealed with laughter as he grabbed her hand, tugging her back in the direction they’d come. They were both soaking by the time they reached the car, which he’d thankfully folded up the top to.

  He opened her door, helping her in, before sprinting around to the driver’s side. When he was safely enclosed in the dry space, he shook like a dog, cursing as he looked down.

  “Since when do you get so worked up about rain?” Peeling off the silk scarf, Jo combed her fingers through her hair, which was sleek with moisture. “I distinctly remember you once streaking down the street in it after a few too many beers with your school friends.”

  Theo grimaced, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I’ll go streaking anytime you want me to, baby. But I’d prefer not to ruin this suit. I was assured that it was made by blind monks on a hill somewhere, woven out of their blood and tears or some such nonsense. That’s the only explanation behind the price.”

  He tossed his jacket behind his seat, then loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. Moving on to loosening his cuffs, he found Jo watching him with more than a hint of hunger on her face.

  He didn’t think; he just acted, placing his palm flat on the nape of her neck and hauling her against his chest. She made a muffled moan as he crushed his lips to hers, his tongue immediately tracing the seam of her mouth, demanding that she open for him.

  She did, a sigh of surrender on her lips when he slipped his tongue into her mouth and tasted her. The smoky scent of cinnamon that he swore came from her very skin surrounded him, drugging him as he stroked between her lips the way he wanted to taste between her legs.

  A crack of thunder so loud that the car vibrated crashed through the air, and they jolted apart, both breathing heavily. When he looked at Jo, saw her lips swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed with desire, it took everything he had not to haul her astride him then and there.

  He didn’t want their first time again to be in a cramped car outside a graveyard. No, what he wanted was to strip her naked, lay her out on his bed and do every single thing he’d ever dreamed of doing to Jo Marchande.

  The way she was looking at him right now? He thought he might finally have the chance.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE HOUR-LONG RIDE back to Boston was quiet, the only words exchanged as they picked their way through the picnic that Theo had packed. Actually, he’d ordered it from a popular deli downtown, but he didn’t see why that made any difference. She was too keyed up to eat more than a handful of grapes and a small wedge of smoked cheddar, and he liked that she seemed worked up.

  “Where do you live?” As he turned down their street, he realized how little she still knew of his life in the years between. “I can’t imagine you’re staying at the house. It’s been empty since...well, since your dad died.”

  “I actually am.” He cast a sidelong glance at her in the growing shadows. Warmer weather was approaching, but the nights were still long and the light was already fading. He liked it—the blueberry tones of twilight seemed to wrap them in a little cocoon, where they could stay as long as they liked. “I stayed away for a while because...well, I just couldn’t handle going through his things yet. Not when I know what a disappointment I was to him.”

  “You didn’t come to his funeral.” There was no judgment in her words.

  “I did, actually,” he admitted, pulling the Jag into the long driveway that led to the stately mansion. Jo gaped at him as he put it into Park and turned to face her.

  “Why didn’t I see you there?” A spark of anger licked at her words, and he knew he deserved it.

  “I made sure you didn’t,” he replied simply, shrugging. “I wasn’t ready.”

  “Ready for what, for the love of God?” She threw her hands in the air.

  “I wasn’t yet the person I’d gone away to become.” He watched her steadily as she seemed to mull that over. He knew she had questions—she’d always displayed every single thing that she thought on her face without a filter.

  “Have you been back in Boston since then?” she asked carefully.

  “No.” He wanted to reach for her, to touch her, but wasn’t sure she’d welcome it right then. “No, I came back just for the funeral. I was in New York then. Had been for a few years. I only moved back to Boston a couple of months ago, when I opened the Crossing Lines office here. I stayed at the Boston Plaza until this week.”

  “Until you were ready to let me know you were back?” She seemed to chew on that. He held his breath, wondering what she was going to ask next. “Is Crossing Lines that new of a company?”

  “Yes and no.” He thought back, pulling up the details. “It’s been in the works for a few years. I didn’t want to use my dad’s money for it, so I had to raise funds, which took a while. Then there was the programming, structuring the company. I didn’t move the offices to Boston until we were officially open. Some of the staff came with me, which made me happy. I’m trying to instill a certain kind of corporate culture, one that treats its employees right and makes them happy, because I think that happiness will filter down to the users of the site.”

  “Was Ava one of the employees who moved with you?” Theo studied her face as she asked. He didn’t see jealousy, but there was a hint of possessiveness that made him want to drag her into the house and claim her, caveman style.

  “She was.” He didn’t feel guilty about anything he’d done with Ava—he assumed that Jo had had lovers over the years, as well. “But we were never together romantically. It was just sex.”

  Not even that great of sex, either, but he didn’t think that Jo needed any details—at least, any more detail than what she’d already seen with her own eyes.

  She nodded, appearing to accept that, but then pinned him with an intense look. “I don’t care what you’ve done when we were apart. But I’m not comfortable with you being with other women while we’re...while we’re doing whatever we’re going to do.”

  “Say it.” He savored the spark that lit her eyes. “Say what you want me to do to you.”

  “I want you to fuck me.” Her voice was quiet, but sure. His girl had always known what she wanted before she reached out and took it. “Only you.”

  Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her head so that she was sitting up perfectly straight, his hand on her skin their only point of contact. “You don’t want to see what I’d do to any other man who touches you.”

  “While we’re together,” she added, expression daring him to argue.

  He smiled grimly. “We’ll see.”

  Leaving her frowning over that, he exited the car, circling round the back so tha
t he could open her door for her. He helped her out, hooking his suit jacket—now only slightly damp—over her to protect her from the relentless drizzle that was still coming down.

  He led her through the front door, closing it behind them. The door was old, like the rest of the house made of heavy wood. The sound of it closing was satisfying, solid, and Theo again had the sense that they were being wrapped in a cocoon that was all their own.

  “Do you want a refresher tour?” he asked quietly, watching as she looked around, those keen writer eyes taking in every detail. “It’s been a long time.”

  She turned her attention from the heavy, dated crystal chandelier overhead to him, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the decision in her eyes.

  “No.” She inhaled softly, pulling his suit jacket off and holding it back out to him. “I just want to see your room.”

  If he touched her, they wouldn’t make it to his room. Hanging his jacket carelessly on the post of the banister, he followed her upstairs, stopping her when she tried to turn into his old room.

  “I’ve moved.” With a jerk of his chin, he pointed her in the direction of the master suite. “Over here.”

  Inside the massive room, he slid the dimmer switch on halfway—he wanted to be able to see her, every part of her. Pulling off his tie, he enjoyed watching her explore the space.

  “You must have just redone this.” She paused to run a finger over the headboard of his bed—a new one he’d had custom built when he’d decided to move into this house. “I can smell paint.”

  “It was just finished last week, actually.” Kicking off his shoes, he undid a few more buttons on his shirt, noting the way her eyes tracked the movement. “Moving into my old room felt like moving into the past. But I thought it would be weird to live in here with my dad’s old stuff, which was hugely dated, anyway. So I gutted this room and the master bath. Some of the crew was actually putting the finishing touches on your hotel, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice. They would have blended right in.”

  She appeared to chew on that as she moved to the window. Bracing her hands on the sill, she peered outside, in the direction of her house, the one that her family had been in for decades, the one he knew she’d worked herself to the bone to make sure they kept.

  “You renovated these rooms.” She spoke carefully, measuring each word. “Does that mean you plan on staying?”

  He was taken aback by the direct question. He knew his plans for the next few years, but beyond that...he hadn’t really thought.

  He couldn’t help but be honest. This was Jo. He’d never lied to her, and he didn’t want to make it a new habit.

  “I’m here as long as it makes sense for me to be here, for the company.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve always assumed that sooner or later I’d sell, though. That I’d take the profits from Crossing Lines and go invest in something else. Something bigger.”

  “Something away from Boston,” she said as she stared out the window. He wanted her to turn around so that he could see her face.

  “Well...probably,” he agreed, raking his hand through his hair. Why did that suddenly not sound as appealing as it once had? Why was he even asking that question? He knew why. Chances were, after this he would move back to New York, or more likely, to LA. His dreams didn’t start and end with Crossing Lines. And no matter what happened here between him and Jo, she would never leave Boston. Never leave her family.

  He shifted uncomfortably in the silence, suddenly filled with a restlessness that made him edgy. He watched as Jo pushed away from the window, sauntering over to the bed. Her body language said that she didn’t care one way or another what his answer to that question had been, and it made a thread of something darkly possessive spark to life inside him.

  She perched on the edge of the bed, smoothing a hand over the steel-gray quilt. “This bed is huge. You could have an orgy in it.”

  “Let’s save that for another night.” He felt his lips form a lopsided smile as she arched an eyebrow at him, seemingly content with the subject change. “I promised you dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.” Rising, she crossed to him, stopping a foot away. His stare fixed on her pulse, beating rapidly beneath the glove-thin skin of her throat. He wanted to press his mouth there. Use his teeth to mark her as his own.

  “What should we do, then?” Even as he spoke, he undid the last of the buttons on his shirt, letting it hang open. He enjoyed her appreciative glance. He’d always logged long hours in the gym, even as a teen, since he wasn’t doing much else. But he’d thickened since then, no longer had any of the gangly limbs associated with puberty. As Jo shed her cardigan, he noted that her body had changed, too, though the differences were subtle. She’d always been petite, nearly skinny in her teens. Now she was curved in all the right places, and though her breasts were still small, they’d plumped up enough to make him think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to them.

  “What should we do?” he repeated, taking her by the waist. She shivered as he drew her slowly to him, until the tips of those pretty breasts brushed against the bare skin of his chest.

  “I’m cold.” He didn’t think she meant just physically, though her hands were chilly from the damp, the rain. “I want you to warm me up.”

  Heat rocketed through Theo’s body. He’d been with other women, beautiful women, sexy women. Most of them had been so eager to be with him that he hadn’t had to do much to charm them into his bed. He hadn’t had to do much to please them there, either, since ultimately what they were after wasn’t really him. No, they wanted the idea of him—the maverick rich boy, the one who turned his back on his family fortune and made his own millions. They liked the travel, the luxury, the lifestyle.

  With Jo, his money had always been more of a hindrance if it was anything at all, which it often wasn’t. The woman who stood before him in what he was pretty sure were clothes belonging to one of her sisters had no interest in money beyond keeping her family comfortable. She wasn’t into shopping, hadn’t batted an eye at his Jag. So the fact that she was here at all meant that it was because she wanted him. Him, Theo.

  He’d never had to work so hard to get a woman into his bed. And no other woman heated his blood quite like she did.

  He wanted this to be good for her, wanted her to be fully aware of who was inside her when she came on his cock.

  “Strip for me.” Peeling her cardigan down just enough to expose her delicate shoulders, he pressed a kiss to one then stepped back. He enjoyed the shiver that passed through it, because he knew she was thinking of what was about to happen.

  “I said I was cold. How am I supposed to get warm if I take off my clothes?”

  But even as she spoke, she was tugging the damp sweater down her arms and off, tossing it to the floor.

  “Keep going.” Wanting to see if she would buck against the command, he infused it with arrogance. His brave girl merely arched an eyebrow and slithered out of the long shirtdress thing that hid far too much of her tight little body.

  “Last time we were together, I don’t think you even owned a bra.” He nodded at the simple, baby blue cotton that covered her chest. “This is new.”

  “I was a little smaller then. I didn’t need one.” Rosy pink flushed the skin of her torso. “They’re still not that big, but it’s enough that I’d be giving everyone a show without one.”

  “I like it.” He really did—the simple cotton held up her sweet breasts like an offering. “Take it off.”

  “You’re probably used to seeing women in things a lot sexier than this.” Flicking open the front clasp, she held the bra up by cupping her hands around her breasts. “I can get something fancier.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he ordered with enough force to make her blink up at him with surprise. “If I wanted to see other women in fancy lingerie, then that’s what I’d be doing right now. But I’m here
with you, so what does that tell you?”

  She stared up at him almost nervously, her tongue flicking out to lick over her lips. She didn’t answer.

  Before she could inhale even one more time, he’d closed the space between them, threading a hand through her short, sleek hair. She gasped but arched into the touch, letting her bra fall open and down to the floor.

  “I want to hear you say it,” he commanded, focused on every little detail of her expression. Her pulse had quickened, her eyes were dilated and her lips had parted, making him think about how they would look wrapped around his cock. “Answer my question.”

  “You’re here because you want me.” Her voice was quiet, but her words were clear. She knew it, too—there was no point in fighting the connection that had snapped tight between them since the moment they’d met.

  “I like hearing that from your mouth.” Without letting go of her hair, he tugged at her leggings, yanking them down her thighs, along with a pair of briefs that matched her bra. Sliding his foot between her legs, he pushed down until she was forced to step out of them.

  She gasped when he lifted her without warning, hauling her over his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I told you to strip and you took your sweet time about it, so I decided to do it for you.” Carrying her toward the bathroom, he let his palm roam over the supple planes of her ass. “Since you don’t seem to take direction well, I decided that I would just take you where I wanted you, rather than wait for you to get around to it.”

  “Since I don’t take direction well?” Her lips parted in shock as he carried her right into the massive shower that he’d had installed when he redid the bathroom. Flipping her hair out of her eyes after he set her on her feet, he saw her struggle to make sense of that play out over her face.

  Her lips parted as if to ask him something, then closed again.

  “Ask me,” he said as he entered a series of settings on the sleek control panel built into the wall of the shower. Triple rainfalls burst down around them, steam rising hot and quick. He looked back at Jo, was entranced by the droplets of water sliding over her skin.