by Jodi Redford
“Just because you didn’t see me didn’t mean I wasn’t around.”
She stacked her arms in front of her, framing her mouthwatering cleavage. “You are such a freakin’ stalker.”
He smothered a chuckle at her sulky glare. “There’s a world of difference between surveillance and stalking.”
“They both start with an S and reek of BS.” She jabbed a finger in the direction of his chest. “Just like you.”
“Don’t push my buttons, Avi. I’m not in the mood for it.” Witnessing some shmuck kissing the living daylights out of her tended to make him grouchy. “How long have you been seeing Thane?” He made sure to shovel plenty of hostility on the man’s name.
“I told you, my personal life is none of your concern. Besides, I’m sure you probably already know, since you’ve been ‘surveilling’ me all this time.”
Her insistence on tagging finger quotes onto the word surveilling chapped his ass, but he kept the stream of swear words that wanted to escape caged behind his teeth. “I’ve never seen him before tonight. Hence my curiosity.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days? Curiosity?”
If he was a little more brain dead, he would have given in to the urge to kiss the smirk from her luscious mouth. “I don’t think you should see him anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed a fraction behind her glasses. “Why?”
“There’s something about him I don’t trust.” Like the way he had his tongue rammed down your throat.
“You don’t even know him.”
“Don’t have to. I can read a person in under two seconds flat, and his vibe is fishy.” He also hadn’t failed to notice Thane’s accent. The man was Frittonian. Granted, Tul’dea was a melting pot of cultures. No reason to link him to that blackmailing bastard from the warehouse.
Then again, he didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Oh really? Your amazing people-reading skill is completely infallible?”
Something in Avi’s prodding gaze raised his hackles. “What are you trying to get at?” He had a strong suspicion, but damn if he wasn’t feeling ornery enough to poke it out of her.
A shadow cast over her features, and she lowered her focus to the floor. “Nothing.”
It was all the verification he needed. The tension held inside him constricted before burrowing low in his gut. They hadn’t talked about the fiasco with Leena since the night the ugly truth came spilling out. Sometimes the inevitable confrontation felt like a ticking bomb between them. The rest of the time he pretended it didn’t exist.
He wisely chose to employ that last option. “It’s getting late. Your training isn’t going to run through the paces on its own.”
Judging from her expression, she didn’t appreciate his terse change of subject. Too bad. His disastrous relationship with Leena was a closed topic. There was no way in hell he was rehashing his failures with Avi.
How was it possible to want to hug someone and clobber them at the same time?
Those two constants perpetually wavered within her when it came to Jerrick. She either wanted to kill him. Or love him. Quite often with equal passion.
She’d witnessed the brief flash of dark emotion in his eyes when their conversation edged too close to his painful past. He’d quickly yanked the shutters down, but her heart ached at the tiny glimpse of vulnerability he kept under lock and key.
Kicking off her shoes, she watched him climb the last two stairs and drape the silver plastic bags he’d brought along over one of the tall newel posts. He stepped into her apartment and rolled his broad shoulders, working out the kinks. His massive, larger-than-life personality overwhelmed the small space, sucking up all the oxygen. No doubt that explained the dizziness she experienced looking at him.
Yeah, right. “I can hang your jacket in the closet.”
He shrugged from the garment, his black T-shirt pulling snug against those rippling muscles that invaded her fantasies too frequently. She tempered the desire to perform a chin check for drool and instead relieved him of his jacket. While he unzipped the garment bag, she trekked to the corner cupboard. Giving a discreet peek over her shoulder, she ascertained the coast was clear and buried her nose in the still-warm collar of his jacket. Later she’d kick her ass for being such a creepy, clothes-sniffing loser.
His woodsy spice infiltrated her sinuses, the delicious, stealthy invader making her woozy and her panties uncomfortably damp.
Enough torture inflicted on her for the day, she hooked his jacket next to her wool winter coat and snicked the cupboard door shut. Thankfully Jerrick was too preoccupied with the contents of his mysterious bag to pay her any mind, which meant her embarrassing behavior went blessedly unnoticed by him. While he struggled to free the section of plastic that’d snagged in the zipper’s teeth, she buckled to the hopeless need to drink him in.
He looked good standing in her apartment. Too good. The overhead star-shaped chandelier threw prisms of light dancing along his sun-kissed sable hair. It was cropped shorter than his usual style, but not too severely that the soft, silky strands wouldn’t curl enticingly around a woman’s fingers.
His focus remained intent on his task, his breath-stealing features set in concentration. She was so spellbound by his rugged beauty that she gave a little jolt of surprise when that startling blue gaze of his lifted and latched on to her. It should be downright illegal for a male to have such thick, lush eyelashes, even if he was a damn fairy. “Damn thing is stuck. Happen to have scissors handy?”
She snapped from her trance and rushed into the kitchen. Rather than wait, he trailed after her and plunked the bag onto the center marble-topped island. He accepted the scissors from her and made swift work of shearing open the stubborn plastic. Once he’d revealed the contents, she took a quick step back and shook her head furiously. “Oh hell no.”
Jerrick dug a thumb into his temple. “Surely you didn’t think we’d waltz into that club in our street clothes?”
“Funny, because that’s exactly what I thought.”
“Be thankful I got you this and not the body Band-Aid getup I first considered.”
“I would have chopped off your balls if you’d attempted to foist that on me.”
“Precisely why I left it on the rack,” he said dryly. “Avi, the dress isn’t that bad.” He tugged it from the confines of the plastic and held it aloft. “At least try it on. If you absolutely hate it, we’ll think of something else.”
“Yeah, you better believe we will.” Grumbling, she swiped the dress from his outstretched hand and stalked toward the hallway. She flipped on the bathroom light and secured the door behind her before tossing the garment over the lip of her oversized stone claw-foot tub. The things I do to exact revenge.
Only this time around, revenge seemed intent on biting her in the ass. Was stuffing herself in a miniscule scrap of leather really worth getting to order Jerrick around?
Yes. Yes, it is. Sighing at how easily her inner bloodthirsty wench sold her out, she wiggled from her pants and top and toed them aside. She eyed the strapless bust on the dress. She’d look like a tacky moron if she left her corselette on. Muttering, she unhooked the undergarment and flung that aside too. Her grunts and obscenities rapidly piling up, she jiggled her way into the flimsy excuse for a dress. Halfway through the ordeal, she realized one important factoid she’d overlooked. There was no way she’d be able to lace up the back on her own. Clutching the front to her, she hobbled to the full-length looking glass propped adjacent to the tub.
Her jaw dropped at the vision staring back at her. “Dear gods, I look like a streetwalker.”
An expensive one at least, but nonetheless she’d die a thousand mortified deaths if her mother accidentally saw her in this getup. Tucking her arms tight to her sides, she stuck out her chest. And almost took out an eye with her left boob. “I can’t leave the house in this. No way in hell.”
“Everything okay in there?”
She nearly jumped out of her s
kin at the sound of Jerrick’s rich baritone on the other side of the door. Seeing how skin was pretty much the only thing currently covering her, springing out of it was a dangerous prospect. “Yes,” she croaked.
“I’m coming in.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“Damn it, Avi. It can’t be that bad.” The knob turned, and the next instant Jerrick pushed inside the cramped space. She caught his reflection in the mirror. His stunned, sucker-punched expression made it worth donning the skimpiest dress known to womankind.
“Gah…”
She frowned at him, ninety-nine percent certain that wasn’t so much a word he’d produced as the sound of him swallowing his tongue. “It’s okay, you can spit it out. I look ridiculous.”
He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat before attempting to speak again. “Not what I was going to say at all.”
“No? Then how would you phrase it? Stupid? Silly? Skanky? I’m sure I can come up with a few more S words if you give me a moment.”
“Sexy.”
She chuffed a humorless laugh. “Good one.” She would have tossed out another flippant comment, but the heat in his eyes dried it to dust in her mouth.
He continued looking at her, really looking at her, in a way he’d never done before. As if he liked what he saw. No, craved what he saw. To the point that he wanted to sink his teeth straight into her for a leisurely meal.
Her turn to gulp. “Jer?”
The timid, uncertain quake in her voice seemed to jog him from his hypnotic fascination with her scantily clothed body. The mask of cool blandness he’d perfected over the years slipped back into place. “The dress will work out fine.”
“I don’t know. I can’t even tie it up properly.”
“Here, I’ll get it.”
Before she could protest or swat him away, he stepped behind her and gripped the laces. “Tell me if I’m doing it too tight.”
“I want it snug so I don’t fall out of the damn thing.”
“Yeah, that’d be a pity.”
She snapped her gaze to their reflections, but his lowered profile revealed nothing regarding that crack. She opened her mouth to demand an explanation and squeaked like she’d been goosed when he tugged on the laces without adequate warning.
Now I know how a sausage feels. Attempting to retain enough oxygen in her lungs to breathe, she sucked in her tummy. Any air trapped there apparently migrated up into her bosom because it plumped like it’d been inflated with helium. Jerrick’s motions stalled for a second, his scrutiny glued to her cleavage. Catching her suspicious squint in the looking glass, he returned his attention to the ties. His knuckles brushed her skin with each pass of the leather through the metal grommets. As he ventured closer to the top of the dress, the lessening slack of the laces meant more chances for his fingers to linger on her goose-pebbled flesh. By the time he pulled the final lace ends together, her knees were trembling.
Jerrick’s warm hands slid upward and rested on either side of her neck. “You’re shaking.”
“In case you didn’t notice, this dress offers less coverage than a washcloth. I’m cold.”
“No, I definitely noticed.”
She assumed he was referring to the inadequacies of her apparel, until she realized he was staring fixedly at her nipples. The combination of her arousal and the chill in the room had stiffened the little buggers to hard points behind the crimson leather. He met her eyes again, and the sultriness brewing in his irises knocked the remaining air from her diaphragm.
“Tell me to touch you.” Gravel rode roughshod over his voice. “Same as you did before.”
“You’ve been touching me for the past five minutes.” Something the slickened state of her panties was all too happy to remind her of.
“You know that isn’t how you want me to touch you. How I’m dying to touch you.” His fingertips trailed over her collarbone, flirting with the upper curve of her breast.
Her eyes fluttering shut, she gave in to a wispy exhale. “Don’t you dare die before you grope me properly.”
“Good girl.” His whiskered jaw caressed the side of her face just as his hand coasted lower and cupped her breast. “That sounds suspiciously like something a dominatrix would say to her sub. Although I suspect she’d back up the reprimand with a stinging bite from her flogger.”
“Trust me, if I had one handy, I’d gladly crack you across the ass.”
His smoky laugh brought new meaning to the term oral sex. Because gods knew, listening to it could trigger an orgasm. He nibbled her earlobe, each tiny nip provoking a pulsing throb through her clit. “You never know. I might enjoy it.”
His thumb flicked her nipple, circling it slowly until the tormented nub ached in desperate wanting of his bare fingers with no fabric in the way. Or better yet, his mouth. Warm, wet and ravenous.
Mesmerized, she stared at the focused way he fondled her, his concentration a mirror to what he’d displayed in the main room when working the plastic from the zipper. If she wasn’t careful, her willpower would rend exactly like the bag beneath the irresistible strength of his wicked enticement. “What are we doing, Jer?”
He continued tracing the peak of her nipple. “Setting the parameters for our training.”
And just like that, reality whipped into her with the brisk impact of an arctic front. This was business to him, nothing more. While she’d been melting like butter under his touch, he’d been perfecting his role. Gods, she was a fool. This was nothing but an illusion, and she’d fallen for it. Hook, line and sinker.
But wasn’t that the entire point of what they were doing? Crafting a clever charade that’d get them beyond the doors of that kinky sex club? Jerrick obviously hadn’t forgotten the reason for him being here. She’d do well to keep her head firmly planted in the game too, and her heart out of it.
Leaning into his big, oh-so-scrumptious body, she slid her arms downward, running her hands along the steel of his jeans-clad thighs. Redirecting her path, she moved higher, grazing his lean hips before grabbing a handful of his ass in each hand. He tensed, a sharp breath whistling between his teeth. She smothered a grin. Yeah, two can play this game, you dirty bastard. “I believe the parameters are mine to enforce. Or have you forgotten our arrangement?”
The mutinous slant of his chin led her to believe he was on the verge of balking, but then he surprised her by inclining his head slightly in a grudging display of acquiescence. “Fine. Show me what you’ve got.”
For a moment she thought he meant it literally, and equal parts excitement and trepidation sluiced through her at the notion of stripping out of the dress and presenting her naked self to him. Common sense reappeared, saving her the embarrassment of awarding him the full monty when he’d likely only been referring to her issuing another command for him to obey.
“Take off your shirt.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
That reply gave him pause, but he released her and took a step back. Not about to miss the show, she turned to face him. Bunching the hem of his T-shirt, he dragged it upward, granting her ample opportunity to ogle the slow reveal of his torso.
And what a magnificent torso it was. His chest was generously endowed with muscle, and nary a hair in sight to obscure the mouth-watering definition of his pecs. His dusky nipples were pebbled as if he too was affected by the chilliness in the air.
Or perhaps arousal was the culprit. She scanned the territory below his belt and sucked in a breath at the sizable bulge straining his fly. If only he hadn’t moved away from her and instead remained pressed to her backside, all that hot, hard flesh rubbing into her.
A decadent shudder rushed through her.
Jerrick tugged the shirt the rest of the way off and let it drop to the floor before combing his fingers through his rumpled hair. The fine thread of tension radiating from him belied his loose and easy posture.
He’s worried what I’m going to ask him to d
o next. The knowledge filled her with a devilish glee. She stroked her chin and circled him, deliberately taking her time with the task. The deep groove of his spine fascinated and beckoned. Splaying her hand in the middle of his back, she followed that alluring line, basking in the warm, velvety texture of his skin and the subtle quiver of his muscles beneath her exploring fingers. He was so unfairly beautiful, it hurt to look at him. Not that she was about to deprive herself by glancing away.
She tracked her gaze upward and stalled on the intricate tribal design inked on his deltoid. Unconsciously, she chafed the patch of skin near her tailbone that held the duplicate to his clan symbol. Thank the gods for that extra two inches of fabric on her dress. Cut any lower and her foolish mistake would have been ousted to the last individual she wanted it revealed to. Bad enough she’d thrown herself at him all those years ago. She’d never live down the tattoo.
Get the damn thing removed. It wasn’t the first time the voice of logic had given her a stern lecture on her folly, but the pathetic reality was her stomach revolted whenever she contemplated heeding the advice. The tattoo was the only part of Jerrick she could claim as her own. Letting it go would be the end of a bittersweet dream.
Sad and pitiable didn’t begin to describe the sorry state of her mind.
“Are you done inspecting me like a side of beef?” Jerrick inquired dryly.
She smacked him on the ass and winced at the stinging burn spreading across her palm. He didn’t even flinch. Damn him and his rock-hard butt. Clearly having a flogger would be beneficial and save her a sore hand. “You’ll speak when I allow it.”
He grunted. “What is this? Method Acting 101?”
“You want me to get in character, right? So I don’t blow our cover and muck everything up?” Getting to throw his words in his face was immeasurably satisfying, especially since his tight expression hinted at precisely how difficult he was finding it to bite his tongue. “If there’s anyone who could use some brushing up on their acting skills, it’s you, Jer, since you don’t appear the least bit docile at the moment.”
