by Lee Kilraine
“I never knew,” she said softly, a bit in awe of the moment.
“It’s true.” He lifted one hand to her face, gliding his fingertips across her cheekbone and then smoothing her hair back. “Almost there on the hair.”
Jo threw one hand over her eyes and groaned. “I didn’t have the heart to look. What color is it now?”
“The soft green of a luna moth in the moonlight.” Lifting one long curl, he twined it around his finger, bringing the two of them close together. “Luna moths have always fascinated me. You could go a whole summer and only see one, sometimes none. Special, like a blue moon. Ethereal and exquisite. Like you.”
“I bet you’re really, really good at phone sex.” If Paxton kept talking like this, he might not even have to touch her. She might go up in flames with only one or two more sentences full of his honeyed words.
His grin went full cocky and his eyes held a fervent glint. “I’ll make sure to program your number in my phone. But then again, why phone it in when I can deliver it in person?”
“There goes your gift of gab again. I used to sneak into the back of debates to watch you.”
“You did?” He backed her up until the back of her knees hit the bed, all the while kissing his way down her throat with openmouthed kisses taking luscious bites of her.
“I did.” She sighed, letting him guide her down onto the mattress, loving the hard weight of his muscled body as it settled onto hers. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you.” He nibbled along her jaw line and pressed his hips into hers. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to say that when I take my jeans off.”
She tilted her head, giving him better access. “Doesn’t feel like that’ll be a problem.”
“I have a confession too.” Resting his weight on his elbows on either side of her, he pulled back enough to gaze into her eyes. “I used to argue with you just to watch your reaction.”
“You did?”
“Oh yeah. First, you’d frown, and your scar from when you fell ice-skating over on Frog Hollow Pond scrunched up into a star.” His gaze roamed her forehead, looking for the mark, so small she’d almost forgotten about it. He ran the tip of his index finger over it. “Here it is.”
It didn’t even hurt, yet suddenly it felt much better.
“Your eyes would turn stormy. Dark. Passionate.” He touched his lips to each eyelid, running his tongue along the fan of her eyelashes.
She’d never known her eyelashes were an erogenous zone. When the heat of his lips left, she opened her eyes, peeking through her lashes at him.
“You’d bite your lip to stop yourself from taking my bait. You have no idea how many times I wanted to sink my teeth into your lip before you could.” Leaning down, he ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the plumpest part.
Her breath caught in her throat and only released again when he let go, soothing her lip once more with his tongue.
“When I was really on my game, I’d get you so angry your nipples would go tight and perk right up.” His gaze moved down to her breasts, barely hidden under the thin silk of her robe. “Just like that.”
“I had no idea.”
“I know. It was my secret guilty pleasure.” He pushed up on his hands until he was kneeling over her, his knees straddling her hips. Reaching down, he loosened the belt and parted her robe, exposing her. “Beautiful. So perfectly beautiful.”
He slipped the robe all the way down her shoulders and off. “For a man with the gift of gab, you’ve left me speechless. You’re exquisite.” And then he stretched his body back over her again, his mouth lined up perfectly with her breasts.
Liquid heat surged through her body, leaving her hot and damp and needy. Just when she thought she’d start begging for him to touch her, he did. One large hand covered and caressed one breast while he licked up the outside of the other with meltingly slow strokes. He paused to nibble the sensitive underside as he took her nipple between his thumb and finger, squeezing and tugging just the right amount.
“It gets worse,” he whispered as he kissed and nibbled his way around her breasts. “When I came back to Climax, and you and I slipped smoothly into our old pattern . . .”
“Arguing?”
“That’s the one. Sometimes—not always, mind you—but sometimes—”
“Yes?”
“Sometimes I’d get distracted by your . . .”
“My perky nipples again?”
“No, unbelievably, no.” He licked her nipple, slow, slower, and then sucked it into his hot, greedy mouth, and she moaned with pleasure. He pulled his mouth away, kissing his way up her chest, across her collarbone, and up over her chin. “It was your mouth. Once we’d each dug ourselves in, I confess, sometimes I’d stare at your mouth and mentally check out. I’d imagine getting you quiet with a kiss. A hard, hot kiss. I wanted to wind your long hair around my hands and give it a tug to hold your mouth just where I wanted and then plunder. Those were the days the arguments ended much too quickly.”
“Paxton?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and kiss me.” Jo reached up both her hands, grabbing handfuls of his thick hair and giving his head a tug to hold his mouth right where she wanted. “Kiss me like you wanted to.”
His nostrils flared, his pupils shot wide, and he took her mouth hard. So perfectly hard. His lips caressed hers with a hot, frantic edge, like all the wanting had built up only to finally explode in that moment.
It was too much and not enough. She was overwhelmed, her skin alive to his every touch. Her own hands were busy stroking along his muscled shoulders and delineated arms, where she trailed her fingertips down the edges of overlapping muscles. Leaning up, she licked and bit his chest, causing him to hiss in his breath.
Groaning, he threw himself off her, rolling until he stood next to the bed and shucked off his jeans. He was back on top of her before she had a chance to get a good look at him.
“Hey, I wasn’t done looking.”
Paxton planted one firm kiss on her lips and said, “You can have whatever you want. But first I need to taste you. There was no room in the car for this and I wanted it bad.”
He kissed and licked his way down her body to her heat. She opened her legs to him on a sigh and gave herself over to the excruciating pleasure of his amazing mouth. “I bet I wanted it more.”
The man had a talented tongue and he knew exactly how and where to use it. Long, teasing licks, hot kisses, lips sucking her most sensitive spot until a powerful orgasm vibrated through every cell of her body, making her nipples tight and sending heat swirling deep inside.
He climbed up her body until they fit together perfectly. “I could do that all day, except I’m so damn hard now I might explode. Please tell me you want me.”
Oh, she wanted him. Hard inside her. Only she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone put a sentence together, so she reached down a hand and wrapped it around his shaft.
The breath shuddered out of him and he instinctively pumped his hips. She reached down her other hand, stoking his hard velvet length. “I want you. I want you hard and fast inside me.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly where I want to be.” He kissed her and then leaned over the side of the bed, fumbling, Jo presumed for his wallet.
She took the opportunity to run one hand over his hard naked ass, digging her nails in, eliciting a growl from deep in his throat.
“You’re killing me,” he moaned as he pulled back onto the bed, condom in hand. Tearing it open, he rolled it down his length with her help, and then he rolled over again with his shaft at her entrance.
She was hot and wet and needing him, but he was waiting for her signal. Kissing her way along his neck until she reached his ear, she took a bite of his lobe and whispered, “Now. Right no—” Yessss.
He’d entered her on one swift stroke all the way in and held still while his breath rattled above her. “Damn, Jo, you feel perfect.” And he began sliding ou
t and back in. Slow, careful strokes, taking his time, yet the pressure built, like a silent humming. A rumbling quake growing ever closer and more immense with each pull out and thrust of return.
The air was clogged in her lungs and her speeding heartbeat was too crazy and chaotic to be any help.
“Faster. I need faster. And harder.” The rumble was gaining on her, overtaking her, overwhelming her every sense. He used his hands, stroking her body and leaving a trail of fire. He nibbled and kissed his lips across her skin, setting her ablaze. Tension grew, pulsing in waves, pulling every cell in her body out into the universe. “Please.”
“Stay with me. I’ve got you.” He never wavered. Never weakened. Just kept that perfect, hard stroke of his shaft deep into her body, deep where the nerve endings connected to an overloaded power grid. He leaned down, sucking her nipple in his mouth, and she finally exploded in a shower of sparks and luscious waves of pleasure that made her lightheaded.
Jo wrapped her legs around Paxton, pulling his hips hard into her; scratching her nails down his back and into his ass. He groaned, his body going stiff, before a shudder ran through him and his weight settled warm and heavy on her.
“I think you finally did it, Jolene Jolene.” He nuzzled softly into her neck. “You finally killed me.”
She poked a finger into his ribs. “I didn’t kill you or you wouldn’t be talking.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I just saw heaven.”
“Sweet talker.” And she melted at every bit of it. After years of being at each other’s throats, she loved giving him access to all her other parts.
“Are you going to let me sleep over?” His deep voice against her ear made parts of her body contract and tingle.
“That depends. Are you going to let me get any sleep?”
“Nope.”
“Then yes.”
Chapter Twenty
Paxton slipped out of bed, leaving Jo soft and warm and, most importantly, catching up on the sleep he’d kept her from last night. A pretty damn amazing night. It made sense to him that after all the years of pent-up emotion between the two of them, they were electric together in bed.
Maybe all those years of nipping at each other had been repressed sexual attraction all along. Like trying to put a pot lid on an erupting volcano.
Stopping off in the guest bath, Paxton threw water on his face and brushed his teeth. Who knew that when he’d thrown those personal items in her shopping cart, he’d actually be using them in her house after a long night of making love?
Moving down the hall and into the kitchen, he made himself at home, setting coffee to brew and helping himself to a banana. Jo’s house was smaller than his. One of those low-country bungalows left over from the 1940s. It was well-maintained and neat as a pin, but he wouldn’t have expected anything less from Jo. She was the most organized, prim and proper woman he knew.
Every room of her house—and he’d seen them all now—was decorated the way she dressed: simple, sparse, and muted. The more he’d gotten to know her over the last few weeks, though, the more a few things weren’t fitting into place. A month ago he would have sworn he knew exactly who Jolene Joyner was. If she were a puzzle, he’d long ago found and fit all the pieces together.
Or so he’d thought. But ever since her arrest, he was feeling like some of the pieces no longer fit. The dancing, for one. And in bed—whoa. Nothing prim and proper there. Not that he was complaining about either one of those. Hell no. It just caught him off-guard. Maybe he was just jumpy after finding out how Darlene had fooled him. Fool me once . . . Paranoid, Pax; very paranoid.
The banana didn’t come close to quieting his growling stomach, which made him grin, remembering all the energy they’d expended last night. This was the perfect morning for waffles.
While Jo slept, he’d make breakfast. But first, the coffee was ready and he needed a cup. Searching out the cabinet with glassware, he grinned at all her teacher mugs. He grabbed the Let’s eat Jimmy. Let’s eat, Jimmy. Commas save lives coffee mug. Leaning against the counter while he drank his first cup, he searched for a waffle recipe on his phone. After pouring more coffee, he moved quietly around the space gathering ingredients: flour, baking powder, vanilla, salt, sugar, eggs, milk, and butter. Of course Jo had a well-stocked kitchen. When the zombie apocalypse came, he was coming to Jo’s house.
He decided to find the waffle iron and get that heating before mixing up the batter. When it didn’t turn up in the kitchen cupboards, he turned to the pantry. Except the door he thought was the panty—wasn’t.
It was more like a deep linen closet and inside, filling every shelf, was a fucking rainbow of exotic, bright, bold, even some garish colors. Pillows, purses, notebooks, sweaters, candle holders, small boxes, funky art pieces and more. Compared to the starkly neutral palate in the rest of her house, this was like an orgasm for the eyes. It was like Carnival in Rio or a Disney parade.
Paxton shut the door and leaned his back against it, letting his gaze roam through the kitchen, dining room, and den. He blew a soft whistle. She lived in an Ansel Adams print but had a Picasso hidden in her closet. Very curious. And another piece of the puzzle.
His stomach growled again and he went back to his search. He found the pantry the next door over, and its careful organization made it easy to find the waffle iron. Once it was plugged in and heating, he mixed up the batter, drank his coffee, and let the memory of last night run through his brain.
The ring of his phone cut into the quiet morning just as he’d ladled the first batch of batter to cook. His phone was an arm’s reach away on the island, next to his keys. He knew it was Tynan because his brother had programmed his own ringtone in: Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood.
He took the call because first off, he figured he knew exactly what this call was about, and second, it was Ty. Ty wouldn’t leave a message. Not when it was a call to give him shit. No, Ty would keep calling and calling and calling.
Picking up the phone, he cut right to the chase. “Yes, I know exactly where my car is.”
“Well, a few active members of the Grapevine think she stole it. Because as everyone knows, springing a puppy from death row is the precursor to hot-wiring cars.”
Small-town gossip could be amusing—until it was about someone you cared for. He didn’t care what the Grapevine spread about him, but he most definitely cared about what was being spread about Jo. “I hope you set them straight.”
“I tried, Pax; I really did. But some people just aren’t buying that you and Jo have buried the hatchet.”
Paxton didn’t respond because he knew what was next....
“Although if you spent the night with her—you did bury the hatchet, so to speak.”
“I’m hanging up now.” He ended the call, tossing his phone back on the island, and turned to find Jo standing in the doorway, looking beautiful as always, dressed in white jeans and a Climax High School T-shirt. “Morning. I guess my phone woke you.”
“Nope, mine.” She lifted her hand to display her own phone before tossing it on the island next to his. “It has been noted that your car was at my house all night.”
“Right. Mission accomplished; we’re officially a couple.” He peered at Jo, running his gaze over her face, trying to gauge her reaction. The warmth spread through his chest, suggesting he was more than okay with the idea of being a couple. For real. As in tear-up-the-contract real. “Are you okay with that?”
The corners of her lips tilted up into a soft smile. “Yes, I’m pretty okay with that.”
“Wow, I’m digging this us-getting-along thing.” He poured her a mug of coffee, passing it to her with a light kiss on her lips. “The next time we do this at my place.”
“Next time?”
“Well, I’m hoping, but your call.”
“What’s wrong with my place?”
“Nothing. But if we were at my place, you’d be wearing one of my dress shirts and nothing else.”
Jo blushed and looked anywh
ere but at him. Down at her coffee mug, out the kitchen window, at her bare feet, before finally settling on the counter behind him. “Are you making breakfast?”
“Damn it. I forgot the waffles.” He spun around to the waffle iron and flipped open the lid, probably about five minutes too late. Lifting them out with a fork with a shake of his head, he dumped them in the trash and immediately ladled in a new batch. “So much for impressing you with my prowess in the kitchen.”
“If it helps, your coffee is good.” She blinked her clear gray eyes at him before adding, “And you impressed me with your prowess in the bedroom, so you can pretty much burn all the waffles.”
Damn, she was going to give him a swelled head if she kept making comments like that. And he wasn’t talking about his ego. “You’re going to distract me again and I’ll have another batch of charcoal waffles.”
“Okay. I’ll change the subject.” Jo pulled out a stool and sat at the island. “How did you end up working for Pope’s firm?”
“Weird timing. Helmut actually was trying to entice Chloe to come aboard, and because we were dating at the time and I had an excellent résumé, he invited me to interview also.” He pulled out the perfectly cooked waffles and placed them on plates, handing one over to Jo before adding the last batch to the iron. “Syrup’s in the microwave.”
She retrieved it, keeping a curious eye on him because yeah, he was avoiding telling a big part of that story. The biggest part, but he wasn’t going to ruin their first morning after by talking about his ex.
“So he thought you’d both join?” She drizzled the syrup over her waffles and then slid it across the granite island to him. “Together?”
“I think so.” He eyed the golden line of syrup as he poured and considered his response while he sliced the side of his fork in, cut off a piece, and enjoyed his first bite. “In the end, we broke up, and I signed on and Chloe didn’t. That’s how I ended up at Clark, Hinders, and Pope. Helmut Pope really is a good lawyer.”
