As she closed the door behind him, she said, "I'm sorry."
"Helen, I'm sor..." he said at the same time.
They both stopped, stared at one another for a long moment, and she relaxed her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was a real bitch this afternoon, and you were just trying to help me."
"I was an arrogant ass," he replied. "I had no business telling you what to do."
"You were worried about what had happened. I should have been nicer about it."
"Peace offering?" he said, extending the hand he'd kept behind his back. It was holding a pizza box, 'Al's Pizza' written on the top.
"Is this that place you told me about last year?"
"Yeah, it is. You remembered that?"
She remembered everything about that night, including what he'd said about wanting a big family. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but she hesitated too long and chickened out at the last second. "You were very eloquent about their pizza."
"I thought you might like to see for yourself." His eyes drifted down to her chest again, and her breasts tightened.
"Put it on the kitchen table while I grab a shirt." She darted into her bedroom and grabbed a tee shirt. She didn't want to wear it. She wanted to watch him looking at her. But she was practically naked.
When she returned to the dining room, he took her hands. The pizza box sat on the dining room table. "I have a better idea. Can you forgive me for acting like a jerk earlier?"
"Only if you can forgive me for jumping down your throat when you were trying to help me."
"Deal." He drew her closer. "I've heard this theory about make-up sex. Want to see if it's true?"
"What's the theory?" she whispered. Her breasts were throbbing, and so was her clit. She wanted Jamie's hands on her again. And this time, she wanted to put her hands on him.
"That it's hot. Best sex ever."
"Not sure I believe that." Their bodies were barely touching, but she felt the hard length of his erection against her abdomen. She nestled closer and put her palms on his chest. His muscles quivered. Heat burned through his cotton shirt.
"Why wouldn't you believe that?" he murmured as he pulled her tight against him. She bit back a moan as her breasts flattened against his chest.
Could she tell him? Or would she chicken out again and say something merely flirty? She took a deep breath. After what happened earlier today, he deserved her honesty. "I thought what we had that night was the best sex ever," she whispered. "Hard to see how anything could be better than that."
He flexed his hips, drawing a breathy cry of need from her. "God, Helen," he groaned. "Don't say things like that. You still have all your clothes on and I want you so bad I'm ready to come."
She'd tried to keep her distance from Jamie. Hadn't gone looking for him after that night, like every molecule of her body wanted to do. But she wanted him too much. Needed him too badly. She couldn't stop now, not when she knew he wanted her just as much.
"Yeah?" She eased her hips away from his and cupped him through his jeans. "I think I need to investigate this claim more closely." She edged the zipper down, one tooth at a time. In the suddenly silent house, every click echoed loudly.
When she reached the bottom, she knelt in front of him. Her warm breath fluttered over her fingers as she tried to release him from the jeans. He sucked in a breath and his hips jerked. His hands gripped her shoulders, his fingers biting into her muscles.
He was too big to fit through the opening left by the zipper, so she undid the button at the top. He sprang free, his long length trapped behind black silk. There was a wet spot at his tip. She leaned forward to kiss it before freeing him from the silk.
She smeared the drop of liquid around his tip, then trailed her fingers down his shaft. His hands tightened on her shoulders. When she leaned forward to taste him, he jerked her to her feet.
"Don't, Helen. Not now," he panted. "I want to come inside of you."
She took his hand, twining their fingers together, and led him to her bedroom.
Dim evening light filtered into the room through her blinds, throwing shadows on her quilt, her dresser, the pictures on the wall. She tugged the quilt back, then turned to remove Jamie's jeans. But he put his hands on hers, stopping her. "My turn."
He eased the tee shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. Anticipation thrummed through her as he stared at her in the tank top. Touch me. Her nipples tightened almost painfully beneath his scrutiny.
He hooked a finger around the neck of the tank and pulled it lower, exposing the tops of her breasts. Leaning in, he kissed the spot where the dark valley disappeared beneath her shirt.
Instead of removing the tank, he pressed his mouth to hers. When he tangled his tongue with hers, she tasted his yearning. His desire. And layered beneath it was desperation. The same desperation that pounded through her.
His mouth clinging to hers, he eased the tank top higher. The cool air that flowed over her breasts felt good against her heated body. He broke their kiss long enough to pull the tank over her head, then her chest was bare and his mouth was on hers again.
Need hummed through her, and she pressed her chest against his. His shirt was in the way, though, so she yanked it over his head. She needed skin on skin. She needed to be wrapped in his arms, to feel the dark blond hairs on his chest rubbing against her nipples. She needed to feel his hard muscles against the softness of her belly.
"God, Helen." He eased her away from him, and his gaze touched her breasts. Lingered. "Even more beautiful than I remembered," he breathed. He cupped them in his hands, tested their weight. Then he bent and took one nipple in his mouth.
Her moan became louder when he suckled gently. Her legs wobbled, and he eased her onto the bed. He slid his palms into the stretchy, loose shorts and tugged them down her legs. He traced his finger over the lacy top of her panties, then slid his hand down to the crease of her thigh. He traced the elastic of her underwear, slipping a finger in to brush over her skin, retreating when she surged into him.
He knew what she needed. She reached for him, eager to hurry him along, and he moved out of her reach. "Nope. Not going to let you touch me yet," he said, sliding his tongue beneath the lacy waistband.
"Jamie." She wasn't too proud to beg. "Please. I need you. It's been so..." She closed her mouth. She might be okay telling him they'd had the best sex ever that night. She wasn't about to let it slip that she hadn't had sex since then. Unless you counted all the nights she'd lain in her bed, thinking about him, letting her fingers drift below her waist.
"So what, Helen?"
"So long since last night." It was the best she could do. There was no blood in her brain. It was all pooled between her legs, making her swollen and throbbing and hurry up, damn it.
"I wanted to taste you last night," he murmured, finally drawing her underwear down her legs. "I want to see how good my memory is."
He shucked his jeans and slid onto the bed. His cock was long and thick, bobbing against his abdomen, and she wanted to hold it in her hand. Taste it. But Jamie was staying far enough away that she couldn't reach him.
"Spread your legs for me," he whispered, his hands urging her thighs apart. He knelt between them, touching her lightly. Tracing the opening of her sex and making her cry out.
"Don't like to be teased?" He grinned down at her, and her heart fluttered. This was the playful, joyful man she'd gone home with a year ago. The man whose charisma she couldn't resist. The man who made her want things she couldn't have.
He slid to the bed and put his mouth against her. Swirled his tongue around her clit, then sucked gently. When he slipped two fingers inside her at the same time, she came with a scream.
Her climax went on and on. Jamie pressed the heel of his hand against her, and she sobbed his name. Finally, when need began to build again, she reached for him and drew him over her.
"Please, Jamie. Now."
He bent over the bed and pulled out his wallet. As he re
moved a small packet, she took it from him, opened it and slid the condom slowly down his length.
He kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth, and she arched her hips to take him in. When he finally slid inside, she clenched her muscles around him.
He groaned and began to move. They were as much in sync as they were a year ago. He anticipated her moves, she knew what he was going to do. As he stroked in and out of her, she inched closer and closer.
"Jamie," she gasped, arching into him. "I'm going to...I'm going to come."
"Me, too," he said into her mouth, moving faster and faster.
He stilled over her, a long moan echoing around her bedroom. He thrust once more, and her climax crashed over her.
His weight pressed her into the mattress, and she wrapped her arms around him to hold him close. Finally, though, he rolled over, leaving her splayed on top of her.
"God Helen," he finally said. "I love..." He swallowed. "I love the way we are together."
Her heart jumped in her chest. That wasn't what he'd started to say.
And what he'd started to stay made her palms sweat and her chest tight.
Chapter 8
He couldn't love her. That wasn't part of the deal. She knew what he wanted in his life, and she wasn't it. Couldn't be it.
But her heart swelled with longing. Need. Grew and grew until she thought it would burst out of her.
"I love the way we are together, too," she finally said, although it felt like a betrayal. She knew what he'd meant. She wanted to have the right to say it back to him.
She couldn't, though. She couldn't give him what he wanted. What he deserved.
So she cupped his face in her palms and kissed him once more, memorizing his taste. The tiny noise he made in the back of his throat. The way his hands gripped her, as if he couldn't bear to think of losing her.
"You were right," she whispered as she tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. "Makeup sex is amazing."
"Want to try it again?" He nuzzled her neck, pressing his mouth against the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
"Nah," she said, her muscles relaxing. This banter was safe. The sexy teasing didn't step over the line and make her want to give him things she couldn't deliver. "We'd have to have another fight, and I'd rather try that pizza you brought over. I'm starving."
"Okay," he said, sitting up and dragging her with him. "But I'll be figuring out our next fight."
"We don't have to use a fight as an excuse." She let her fingers linger on his chest a moment too long. "What's between us will be incredible even without a fight."
"Oh, yeah," he said, scooting up in bed and drawing her with him. "I like that. We'll do a series of controlled experiments. The scientific method. Test out your hypothesis."
"Since when are you a scientist?"
"Starting now. I'm studying you."
She rolled her eyes. "Cheesy, Evans. Is that the best you can do?"
His eyes darkened and he reached for her. "Let me show you the best I can do."
She squirmed away from him and slipped out of bed. "Food first." She grinned as she grabbed her shorts and camisole from the floor and pulled them back on. "Or you risk the Brody hangries."
"Hangries?" He tossed the covers to the foot of the bed and stepped into his jeans. "What's that?"
"A condition where lack of food leads to sudden outbursts of irrational anger. Viciousness. Whining."
"Sounds very ugly. Let's get some of that pizza into you before we have an outbreak."
The pizza was cold, so she put it in the oven. Jamie opened cabinets and drawers until he found plates and silverware, then set the table. When he spotted her watching him, his hands stilled. "Hope you don't mind," he said. "Trying to head off those hangries."
"Of course I don't mind. You want a beer?"
"I'd love one."
She pulled two bottles of Blue Moon out of the refrigerator and opened them, then slid into the other chair at her kitchen table. They sat in a comfortable silence, sipping their beers and taking turns sneaking looks at each other.
When the oven timer dinged, she pulled out the pizza and set it on the table. "How did you know pepperoni and mushroom was my favorite?"
"You told me what you liked on your pizza last year. When we were talking about Al's."
Her stomach fluttered, and she set the piece of pizza she'd been about to eat onto her plate. "Do you remember everything about that night?"
"Probably. You made an impression."
He'd made an impression on her, too. For two months after that night, she'd deliberately planned things for weekends so she wouldn't be able to go back to the club. Even then, a couple of times she'd gotten half-way there before she'd regained her sanity.
He bit into a piece of pizza, leaving a spot of red sauce at the corner of his mouth. She wiped it away, then licked her finger. His eyes darkened again. "You like playing with fire, don't you?"
"I'm beginning to see the benefits." She held his gaze while taking a drink of her beer. After setting the bottle down, she let her finger trail down the bottle, following a drop of condensation.
He slumped in his chair, taking a drink of his own beer as he held her gaze. "You're an evil woman."
She stopped herself before she could leap across the table and show him just how evil she could be. No one had ever called her an evil woman before. She'd never wanted to be until she met Jamie.
There was so much need in his eyes that she had to look away. She carefully lined her knife up with her beer bottle as she avoided his gaze. She owed him more than an 'I'm sorry' for the way she'd behaved today.
Finally she looked directly at him, pressing her palms against her thighs to keep from reaching for him. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like I did this afternoon. I could say you remind me of my nephews – you saw how they are – but that's no excuse. I was tired, and sore, and still shaken from my encounter with Doug Ashcroft. That's no excuse, either. I think...I think you scare me, Jamie."
"Seems fair. You scare the hell out of me."
Her fingers were drumming on her thighs, and she flattened her hands, stilling them. "What...what are we going to do about that?"
He took another piece of pizza and smiled. "I want to see where it goes. Don't you?"
Yeah. Even though she knew it couldn't last. Jamie wanted a big family, and that was a deal breaker. She needed to let him go so he could find a woman who could give him that family.
But she didn't want to.
Maybe it would be okay to have a fling with him. They'd probably burn so brightly that they'd flame out after a few weeks. Then he could move on. And so could she.
Even though she didn't want to move on.
She didn't have a choice.
She'd kept herself from going to that club, looking for him, for months. They'd reconnected anyway, though. Surely that had to be a sign.
A month, she decided. She'd give them a month, then she'd let him go.
She stood abruptly and grabbed the empty beer bottles, rinsing them and tossing them into the recycling. Jamie stood to hand her the pizza box, and she shoved it into the trash.
He leaned against the wall, a half-smile on his face. "You in a hurry or something?"
"Or something." She leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. "I have plans for you."
"What a coincidence." His arms surrounded her and held her tightly. "I have some things in mind for you, too."
***
Four days later, Jamie followed her up the steps of a brown brick bungalow on a street that looked like the one where he'd grown up. Kids' toys on the sidewalk, bikes lying on their sides in the tiny patches of front lawn, a baseball game going on in the street.
"This where you grew up?" he asked.
"Sort of." She turned to look at him, and the sundress she wore fluttered around her legs. It reminded him of the way those legs had been wrapped around his waist a couple of hours earlier.
The way she'd moaned his nam
e as she came.
He needed his hands on her again, but they were on the front porch of her family's house. Dial it down, Evans.
He wasn't sure that was possible.
Ever since their fight, they'd spent every night together and most of every day, as well. He'd set up a card table in her office, complete with a stool to elevate her ankle, and she'd worked while he hammered and sawed in the outer room.
Focus. He couldn't think about what they'd done on that card table two days ago. He'd had to re-attach one of its legs afterward.
"What do you mean by 'sort of'?"
"I thought I told you. This is my sister's house." Her eyes softened as she glanced at the door. "She and her husband pretty much raised me – I even moved in with them when I was a teen-ager." Her eyes clouded. "I was my mother's surprise when she was in her forties, and she didn't have the patience or the energy to deal with me by the time I was sixteen. Rose is almost twenty years older than me, and her oldest kid is only a few years younger."
"And you guys do this every month?"
"Yeah. Sunday dinner." She hesitated, and he thought she looked nervous. "I've never brought anyone before. I'm a little nervous."
His chest tightened. Wow. "Are they..." He cleared his throat. "Are they going to give you a hard time?"
"I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you. Five cops giving you the once-over at the same time? Might send you running."
"Not going to happen, Helen." Hadn't she figured that out by now? Helen was it for him. "Let the cops do their worst. I'm sticking."
As she reached for the door, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him, kissing her. Before either of them could get carried away, he let her go. "I like being your first."
She rolled her eyes, the reaction he'd been aiming for, and opened the door. He stepped into a house that smelled of garlic and butter and spaghetti sauce, and an older woman who looked remarkably like Helen hurried forward.
"Helen. It's been so long."
Helen hugged her tightly. "It's been a month, Rosie."
"Way too long." She glanced down at Helen's foot, still encased in the boot. "How much longer until you get rid of that?"
Love Me (The Donovan Family Book 1) Page 6
