Testing the Limits

by Kira Sinclair

  She shook her head, lifting her hands up and waving for him to stop. He didn’t. Instead, he tackled her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rolling in midair so his body would take the brunt of the impact.

  But he didn’t stop when they hit the ground. That would have left her exposed. A soft gust of air swept across his cheek as her body collided with his. Jace kept rolling until she was pinned beneath him, his body becoming a shield.

  Bent arms pressed by her sides, her palms flattened against his naked chest. He took a few precious seconds to scan her face and make sure she was unharmed before returning his focus to assessing their surroundings.

  And that’s when he noticed the five boys standing several feet away, gaping at them.

  One of them, the oldest, held a baseball in his hand. Another had a bat. The others all held mitts.

  An unpleasant thought twisted through his brain.

  A frown pulling at the space between his brows, he growled, “What’s going on?”

  All of the boys shuffled backward a few steps.

  “Jace, stop it,” Quinn admonished. “The boys accidentally sent their baseball through my window. It was an accident, hardly worthy of a drawn firearm.”

  His gaze returned to Quinn. Her eyes stared up at him, exasperation and humor making those golden flecks sparkle.

  Her body, tensed after his sudden assault, relaxed. She sank into the thick grass, unconsciously taking his full weight. Her fingers flexed against his naked skin. Her hips shifted. And suddenly he was hard as stone.

  There was no way she could miss his reaction.

  Slowly, the humor in her eyes faded, replaced with something much more dangerous...and tempting.

  Her lush lips parted. Her fingers curled into his skin, as if to pull him closer. Jace’s gaze fell to her mouth. Soft and pink. Full and enticing. He wanted to taste her. Wanted to know if she was as sweet as she smelled.

  Had wanted it for a very long time.

  His neck curved. Her chin tilted, moving to give him room. Her breath stuttered. They were so tightly pressed together, he could feel the hitch in her chest more than hear it.

  Her eyes darkened.

  But before he could actually claim her mouth, a small, hesitant voice interrupted.

  “Uh, mister, you dropped your towel.”

  * * *

  OH, DEAR LORD ABOVE.

  Quinn’s head turned slowly, her gaze traveling across the breadth of Jace’s shoulders, down his tight biceps, still glistening with tiny droplets of water, to his large hand clenched around a gun.

  Okay, so that definitely wasn’t the hard ridge of his gun between them.

  She sucked in a harsh breath, her body lighting up like the New York skyline on New Year’s Eve.

  “Uh, mister, you dropped your towel.”

  The high-pitched little boy voice had Quinn’s gaze dragging back across the hard body pressed tight to hers.

  She was human, after all.

  It was her only excuse when her body curled up to sneak a peak of Jace’s naked backside.

  Dear, sweet heaven.

  Her hands dug into the soft grass and tore it up by the roots. It was either that or grab a handful of him. As it was, she couldn’t quite stop herself from squirming beneath him.

  Jace hissed, almost like she’d hurt him. Panic surged through her. Had he injured himself diving to the ground?

  That thought had her fists unlocking. They were so tightly pressed together, she couldn’t see anything. But, oh, could she feel. Her fingers found his sides, running up over his ribs, down his hips and over the tight ridge of ab muscles, searching for some sign of damage. By touch alone, she explored him, pausing slightly when her fingertips brushed across the raised proof of the scars he’d tried to cover up.

  Another groan rumbled up through his chest. The vibration of it shot straight through her, but she was too deep in worry to dwell on her reaction.

  She searched his pale blue gaze, looking for any sign of pain. And it was there, lurking deep in the back, an echo that sent adrenaline surging through her body.

  “What did you do? Where does it hurt?”

  Quinn wrapped her leg around his, and with a surge of her hips tried to flip him over onto his back so she could examine the rest of him. Unfortunately, the move didn’t get her much of anything.

  Jace’s hips surged against her, driving her deeper into the ground and pinning her in place.

  His long, lean body stretched over hers, reminding her that she could feel every hard inch of him. And there were plenty of them to feel.

  “Really? Did you really just ask me that, Quinn?”

  Heat flushed her skin, embarrassment and arousal.

  “That’s what I thought. Any idea where my towel went?”

  As if by magic, a beige pile of terrycloth plopped down onto the ground right beside them.

  Jace looked up, a grim smile curving his lips. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Sure,” a voice said, clearly full of barely suppressed laughter. From a few yards away several snickers joined the moment. A battered pair of sneakers paused for a second before turning and retreating fast, followed by four more. They were blessedly alone, although Quinn wasn’t entirely certain that was a good thing.

  Rolling, somehow Jace managed to snag the towel, cover the strategic parts and end up on his back beside her on her lawn.

  One arm plopped down over his face, shielding his eyes and expression from Quinn. Although she could see his mouth—his beautiful, kissable, tempting mouth—the corners crooked up in a smirk that hadn’t fully formed.

  Pulling her legs beneath her, Quinn sat up cross-legged next to him. Her knee brushed his hip. She should probably pull it away, but she didn’t want to. She liked touching him. Liked the way any contact made her body buzz with an energy she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

  His chest rose and fell on even, measured breaths. And while the towel was draped across the middle of his body, it did nothing to hide the valleys and planes of his abs. Or the massive erection tenting the soft cotton. She’d seen him half naked last night, his shorts covering pretty much exactly the same amount of skin as the towel.

  So why was she reacting like this was more?

  “So, um, thanks for trying to save me?”

  He rolled his head sideways, a single clear blue eye peeking out from behind his arm. “Sure. Any rabid baseballs, murderous footballs or wayward Frisbees attack and I’m your man.”

  Quinn reached for him, running her fingers down the slope of his arm in a gesture meant to soothe his wounded pride.

  “It was sweet. Honestly. I know I haven’t exactly been making this easy, but it means a lot that you’re willing to put yourself in harm’s way to protect me.”

  She had no idea what she’d said, but one moment amusement was lighting his eyes, the next his mouth tightened into a grim line and a cold shield dropped in place to cut her off from seeing anything else.

  “Of course I’d protect you. You don’t have to ask. It’s what Michael would have done. What I’ll do since he can’t.”

  For some reason, a large lump formed in the middle of her throat. It hurt, as though she’d tried to swallow a bite way too big.

  He was wrong. Michael had been a lot of things—and she’d loved him for every one of them. He’d been a good man. But not the kind to charge into a dangerous situation, not caring about his personal safety.

  Michael had been methodical and meticulous. He would have assessed the situation first. Calculated probabilities and then calmly called someone more qualified to tackle the problem.

  Jace...he just went in with both barrels blazing. Damn the consequences. He thought she was in danger and that was all he needed to know in order to act.

  Jace
surged to his feet and Quinn watched him walk away. She got another brief glimpse of his delectable rear as he wrapped the towel around his body and secured it at his waist.

  She didn’t move, frozen in place, sitting in the middle of her front lawn as he walked away from her.

  Pausing at her front porch, he didn’t even bother turning back to her when he said, “You planning on sitting out here all day and entertaining the neighbors? Thought you had things to do.”

  * * *

  THE REST OF the day dragged on endlessly. Everywhere she turned, Jace was there...along with the residual rumble of desire she couldn’t seem to quash.

  That moment on the lawn...something had shifted. Maybe not between them, but definitely inside her. Sure, she’d been fighting fantasies of her almost brother-in-law for years. But now she’d felt him.

  And knew he could respond to her. His body had definitely wanted her. And maybe it was simply rolling around with her on the ground that had done it. Maybe any woman he’d gotten that close to would have garnered the same physical response.

  But her own body didn’t give a damn.

  Blocking out the urges was becoming more and more difficult.

  They hit the home-improvement store, where Jace stood, arms crossed over his chest, and watched while she talked with a clerk and picked out paint. He didn’t offer an opinion and she didn’t ask him—although she was tempted, just to see his reaction as they discussed the pros and cons between harbor and kingfisher blue.

  The only thing he did during the whole experience was gruffly suggest, “Get two rollers so I can help you.”

  She hadn’t intended for him to spend his vacation protecting her—or painting her den—but she wasn’t going to turn down the help. It would give them both something to do.

  And maybe when they were finished she’d be tired enough that she could fall into bed and forget she’d started the day pressed tight against his hard body.

  Although, their trip to the gym didn’t help much.

  She was grateful when Jace declined joining her spin class. Somehow she didn’t see pedaling to nowhere as his preferred exercise. But the relief was short-lived when she walked out of the little spinning room, sweat pearling on her skin, to find him off to the side, a bar with an obscene amount of weight lifted high over his head.

  Every muscle in his body strained with the effort. For a minute, Quinn felt lightheaded. She had to reach out and grab onto a treadmill to keep from falling over. Too much exertion. And maybe her legs weren’t completely back under her after pushing herself on the bike. That was it. Absolutely.

  Her reaction had nothing to do with watching Jace’s back, shoulders and thighs ripple with exertion.

  Tipping the water bottle to her mouth, Quinn sucked a huge swallow down her suddenly parched throat. Forcing herself to turn away, she headed to the locker room. She normally showered at home, but today she was going to take fifteen or twenty minutes to get her head back where it belonged.

  The day concluded with a very domestic trip to the grocery store. Since he was giving up his own plans to protect her—even if she didn’t think she needed it—the least she could do was feed the guy. So she asked him what he liked and proceeded to fill the buggy with whatever he wanted.

  It pissed her off when, instead of letting her pay, he pulled out his wallet and beat her to it. They argued in the middle of the checkout lane. The cashier, a woman in her early sixties who probably had several grandchildren, just stood there listening to them, the funniest smile on her face.

  Quinn didn’t understand why until Jace ended the argument by taking the buggy filled with bagged groceries and walking away, leaving her to finish the transaction and wait for a receipt.

  “Y’all are the cutest couple. You remind me of my husband. We bicker over everything whenever he comes shopping with me.” Folding up the receipt, the cashier handed it across the small counter separating them, but didn’t let go. “Let me give you some advice. Let him do stuff for you. It’s their ego. Makes ’em feel necessary.”

  Giving her a conspiratorial wink, the cashier sent her on her way. But instead of the sage words helping, they only ticked up Quinn’s annoyance meter one more notch.

  She was in a foul mood when they got home, everything building inside her higher and higher. The slam of cabinet doors was far from satisfying in bleeding off the churning emotions.

  Jace ignored her temper, which didn’t help at all.

  His body was completely relaxed while Quinn was strung tighter than a drum.

  Without another word, he disappeared out the back door. Pulling his shirt over his head, he threw it onto the table on her patio before cranking up her mower, picking up where he’d left off the other day.

  Forcing her gaze away, Quinn channeled all her pent-up energy into cooking.

  A couple of hours later she had a chocolate pecan pie cooling on the counter, a batch of garlic bread—she’d crushed the damn garlic herself—toasting in the oven and spaghetti sauce bubbling away on the stove. Not something out of a jar, but the recipe her grandmother had taught her when she was sixteen.

  Even as the food heated, her temper cooled. Jace came inside and started banging around in her powder room, probably fixing the leak she’d mentioned in passing. Finally, she heard him settle into the den and the muted sounds of a ballgame filled the house.

  Logically, she realized her reaction to everything had been out of proportion...probably more a result of her runaway libido than anything else.

  The problem was, once cooled, her temper was no longer operating as a buffer to the other things she didn’t want to think about—or remember.

  Like the feel of Jace’s body sliding against hers. The welcome weight of his hips driving her into the ground.

  The long, hard length of him.

  He’d been aroused. The question remained, was it her or just a reaction to the circumstances? He had been naked, adrenaline no doubt surging through his body as he’d tackled her to the ground. Wouldn’t most men react that way?

  She wasn’t sure. And it wasn’t as if she could ask him. At least, not without feeling like an idiot.

  Before Michael she’d had a couple of relationships—high school and college. Nothing serious, just friendly and fun. She wasn’t a virgin and hadn’t been for a long time. But she didn’t exactly have a wealth of experience to draw from, either. She’d met Michael right out of college and they’d been together for a little over three years when he’d gotten sick.

  It had been a very long time since she’d played the dating game. She was rusty and didn’t trust her instincts where the signs of attraction were concerned.

  Jace had never once given her the impression he thought of her as anything aside from an almost sister-in-law. That’s what she told herself every time her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t.

  But what if she was wrong? What if he really did want her?

  That doubt, that possibility, was what was driving her batty.

  “Are you sure I can’t help with anything?”

  The low, rumbling timbre of his voice startled her. Quinn looked down and realized she’d been standing in front of the stove, holding up a spoon and staring as red sauce dripped back into the pot below.

  “Uh...” She shook her head. “Why don’t you set the table? This should be ready in about ten minutes, as soon as the pasta cooks.”

  They shuffled around each other, engaging in a sort of dance as they moved in and out of each other’s way. She shifted left so he could reach around her for plates. He flattened against the counter so she could grab the strainer by his right hip. They moved silently, without communicating, as if they’d been doing it forever.

  Unfortunately, it was all a lie. Because there was no comfort in the movements, only unacknowledged tension that relentlessly dogged
them through the entire meal.

  Somehow, they managed to fill the time with polite conversation; after all, they’d both had two years’ practice making nice over dinner. But the longer they shared the same space the more brittle Quinn’s restraint became.

  It was just too much.

  Unable to sit for one more moment without going mad, she pushed back from the table, the legs of her chair squealing out a protest against the floor. Gathering up the empty plates, she turned to the sink.

  She had a dishwasher, but tonight she was going to hand wash every single plate, pot and pan. She needed the busywork.

  Depositing the dishes, she turned to get the rest and slammed straight into a hard wall of male flesh. Her entire body rocked backward and every molecule of oxygen exploded out of her lungs on a whispered, “Oomph.”

  Slightly unsteady, she grasped for something to hold her up. Her hands grabbed Jace’s shirt, crumpling the soft cotton in her fists. Neck craned back, she stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth open like a fish.

  Dishes clattered into the sink. Somewhere in the back of her brain she wondered if she was going to have to replace them all because they’d broken.

  Strong fingers wrapped around her shoulders. They weighted her. Grounded her. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized just how off-kilter her world had been spinning, until with a single, simple touch Jace Hyland somehow managed to yank her back to center.

  “I’m sorry,” he rumbled, his voice low and intimate. A shiver snaked down her spine. Warm heat puddled at the center of her body. It was delicious and comforting. She wanted more. Craved it.

  Pushing up on her toes, Quinn let a single hand slip up over the contours of his shoulders to bury in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She applied pressure, urging him down to meet her even as she rose to take what she wanted.

  He made a wicked sound in the back of his throat, a cross between a whimper of pain and a groan of relief, when her lips brushed against his.

  And then she was no longer in control.

  Her feet left the ground. One of his arms wrapped beneath the swell of her rear and boosted her higher. Her body slid along his, delicious torture, as he aligned them perfectly.