by Lara Lacombe
A small, cowardly part of him wanted to forget about her brother, to pretend it had never happened. Alex knew she would never look at him the same way once she realized he’d been there, that he’d done nothing to save Jason as he lay dying on the dirty pavement of the alley. It was going to break his heart to tell her, but she deserved to know her brother’s fate. The agony of the unknown was far greater than the pain of the truth—better for her to have closure.
Even if it meant losing her.
But now wasn’t the time. She was going to push him out of her life after he told her about Jason, and he wasn’t willing to leave her just yet. Not until he was absolutely certain of her safety.
And just when will that be?
It was easy to justify keeping his secret a little while longer while they worked to clear his name with the Bureau and stay one step ahead of the 3 Star Killers. But what about after? Jillian was never going to be one hundred percent safe—she was a woman living alone in a major city that had its fair share of crime. Her job kept her on the front lines, exposing her to the aftermath of violence every day. There wasn’t going to be a single moment in time that he could identify as being “safe” enough for her to learn about her brother.
It was tempting, too tempting, to imagine walking away after this was over. He could fade from her life, and she’d never be the wiser. At least then she might carry some fond memories of him, and their last moments together wouldn’t be stained with anger, hurt and guilty confessions. But that was the problem. He didn’t want to walk away from her. He wanted to be a part of her life. And that meant he had to tell her. If he kept the secret, it would eat away at his soul, much like Dan’s anger had festered over the years. If he and Jillian had any real shot at being together, there was no room for a secret such as that in their relationship.
Assuming she even wants you.
He wasn’t exactly a prize catch at the moment. His once-sterling reputation was tarnished, almost beyond repair. He had a gang of violent thugs after him, and his body had taken a beating. He sighed, tired down to his bones and feeling very old.
He cast a longing look down the length of the sofa, his body crying out for rest. But the thought of Jillian in the custody of the gang sent a renewed tremor of fear down his spine, energizing him to push past his physical limitations. He stood, then gingerly moved his knee in a tentative exploration. The pain was still there, but it had gone from a fierce burn to a dull warmth. It wouldn’t take long to rekindle it, but for now, he’d make do.
He had just hobbled over to the door, hand outstretched to grasp the knob, when he heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Jillian’s apartment was at the end of a long hall, which meant there wasn’t a lot of traffic by her door. Since her neighbor didn’t appear to get out much, he could only assume the mystery walker was heading for him.
A quick flash of excitement tingled through his limbs and he found himself leaning forward, subconsciously pulled toward the door and the possibility that Jillian was on the other side. He held his breath as the footsteps came to a stop. He heard the faint jingle of keys, the musical tinkling cutting through the whoosh of blood thundering in his ears.
Please be okay...
The door opened to reveal Jillian standing on the threshold. She let out a startled squeak at seeing him so close, but he ignored her alarm, running his hungry gaze over her to assess her condition. There was no sign of injuries, and some of the tension left his body as relief crashed over him like a wave.
He looked back to her face then, and the sight of the tears pooling in her eyes made his stomach drop.
Oh, God, was she injured? The large blue coat she wore obscured the upper half of her body—it could be covering something. He took a step forward, reaching out for her. If she was hurt, he would need to call the paramedics.
Jillian let out a small cry. “You’re here,” she whispered. Then she threw herself into his arms, forcing him to take a step back to keep them both from falling.
He automatically circled his arms around her, holding her against his chest. She hugged him tightly, pressing her face into the hollow of his throat. “You’re safe,” she said softly, burrowing as close as she could.
It dawned on him then that she wasn’t crying because she was injured or in pain—she was crying from relief. She had been scared for him. The realization filled him with tenderness, and he raised one hand to slowly stroke the softness of her hair. Had anyone ever been scared for him? He knew Jim worried about him out in the field, but he doubted his friend had ever felt fear like this on his behalf. Shannon may have worried for him, but she’d doubtless moved on with her life and didn’t think of him anymore. He was so used to being on his own, he hadn’t even bothered to consider Jillian might be concerned for him.
Jillian was shaking now, her body trembling as if there was a live current running through her limbs. Alex pressed his nose to her hair, making low, soothing sounds while he continued to stroke her hair, then her back.
“It’s okay,” he said, rocking her slightly. “I’m here. We’re both safe. How’s Jim?”
“Stable,” she said, her voice muffled. “I think he’ll be fine.”
He breathed in, relishing the familiar warm vanilla scent of her. She carried other smells, too, a testament to her day—the earthy aroma of cold leaves, the metallic tang of stale blood. And the faint musk of a man’s cologne, drifting up from the fabric of the mystery coat she wore.
After a moment Jillian pushed away from him. He let her go, his body immediately going cold at the loss. She stared up at him, wiping her red-rimmed eyes with brisk, impatient hands. Then she poked him, hard, though she was careful to attack his uninjured shoulder.
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Alex opened his mouth to respond, but she kept talking, apparently not interested in his reply. “How could you offer yourself up as bait for those guys? How stupid can you be?”
He didn’t try to speak this time. She continued to rant, releasing all her pent-up emotion in a verbal tirade that attacked his sanity, his intelligence, his common sense—or lack thereof—and his overestimation of his own abilities. He would have been offended, had he not known she was lashing out because she cared. In fact, rather than make him angry, her words only served to underscore the fact that she had feelings for him. A warm tingling started somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, spreading outward to travel along his limbs and down to his fingers. He felt like a candle flame and glanced down at his hand, slightly disappointed to find that he wasn’t, in fact, glowing.
“Are you even listening to me?” Apparently, Jillian had noticed his distraction, and if the tone of her voice was any indication, she wasn’t pleased.
“Yes,” he replied hastily. He stared down into her scowling face, struggling to keep his expression serious. After a few seconds he lost the battle. A huge smile took over his mouth.
Jillian’s expression grew thunderous. “Do you think this is funny?”
He shook his head, smile still in place. “No,” he said honestly. How could he explain his reaction? How could he tell her that he was punch-drunk on joy and relief and the fact that she had come back to him? He could barely articulate it to himself, much less someone else.
“You nearly killed me with your little stunt, Alex. Do you hear me? My heart literally stopped beating when you ran out to those guys.” Her lips quivered and fresh tears welled in her eyes. She blinked, sending them sliding down her cheeks to drip off her jaw.
He sobered at that, the grin fading in the face of her distress. “Come here,” he said, leading her over to the couch. When they’d both sat, he pulled her into his lap and held her with her head against his chest. She was stiff for a moment, but as he stroked his hand over her hair, she relaxed into him with a small sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping hi
s voice low. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get them away from you and Jim, and that was the only way to do it.”
She made a low sound in her throat that could have been agreement or simple acknowledgment. He decided not to ask for clarification.
“If it makes you feel any better, I was scared, too. Not for me, but for you.”
She pulled back, eyeing him incredulously. “Why were you afraid for me? You were the one getting chased by men with guns, men who had just shot your friend.”
“I know, but I managed to get away from them. I ran into some cops in the Metro station and reported them, but I didn’t stick around to see if the police were able to make any arrests. I’ve been sitting here, wondering if the enforcers made it back to their car, if they saw you helping Jim, if they stopped to hurt you or take you as a hostage.” He shook his head. “It’s enough to drive me mad.”
Jillian rested her head against his chest again. “You have quite the imagination.” She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. “I guess we both do.”
“Seems that way,” he agreed.
They sat in silence for several moments. Alex focused on the feel of the woman in his arms—her soft curves, her warm scent. The rise and fall of her chest against his own. She was perfect. She was whole.
She was his.
Even though he had no business thinking of her in that way, his heart was all too happy to ignore the dictates of his brain. Never mind that he didn’t have anything to offer her, never mind that he’d brought her nothing but trouble. She fit him like a missing puzzle piece. He felt complete when she was near, and the demons of his past—the guns, the drugs, the bloody things he’d been party to by virtue of his job—faded into nothingness. It was a heady sensation, more addicting than any drug the gang had peddled in the streets.
Jillian stirred against him, leaning back to look him in the eyes. He smiled at her, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. She smiled, her face reflecting his relief and contentment.
“Why are you limping?”
He blinked, taken aback by her question. “What?”
“You limped over to the couch. What happened?”
Alex shook his head, grinning ruefully. She didn’t miss a trick, that was for sure. “I wrenched my knee pretty bad on a patch of ice when I was running. I think I just sprained it.”
“Let me see.” She rose to her feet, shrugged out of the coat and dropped it next to him on the couch.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he protested. But he obligingly stretched out his leg to give her better access. “I’ve been keeping an ice pack on it.”
She bent to look at his knee, tugging at the hem of his pants to raise the fabric. It got stuck about halfway up his calf, causing her to grunt in frustration as she attempted to wrestle it into submission.
Jillian straightened. “I can’t look at it like this. I need you to take your pants off.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Doc, if you wanted to see me in my skivvies, all you had to do was ask.”
She shot him a mock glare, but the effect was ruined by twin spots of pink that appeared high on her cheeks. “I believe I just did,” she said coolly.
Alex stood and shucked the pants in one motion, wobbling only a little when he stepped out of them. He straightened, waggling his eyebrows and giving her an exaggerated wink before sitting back down and extending his leg.
She leaned over again to examine his knee, and he swallowed hard, trying to control his body’s reaction to her proximity to his groin. While she was several inches south of the important bits, his lack of pants intensified the intimacy of the moment.
After an endless moment of prodding and poking, her breath warm against the skin of his thigh, she leaned back, nodding in apparent satisfaction.
“Well, Doc?” His voice was surprisingly husky, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s the verdict? Do I get to keep my leg?”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “For now,” she replied. She sat next to him and turned her laser-like focus on his shoulder. “Time for me to check your gunshot wound.”
Keeping his gaze on her face, Alex slowly pulled his shirt off and dropped it to the floor. Jillian didn’t look away, but her skin flushed a pretty rose and she swallowed hard. A small thrill of victory raced through him at the evidence of her interest. Clearly he wasn’t the only one having impure thoughts at the moment.
She leaned forward again, licking her lips as she did. He braced for a flare of pain, but her fingers were gentle when she pressed around his stitches. Then she placed her other hand flush against the center of his chest, right over his heart, and he stopped worrying about his shoulder.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the comforting weight of her palm above his heart. Could she feel it beating, the way it sped up when she was near? Did hers do the same? He began to raise his hand, wanting to echo her gesture, but stopped himself just in time.
Her hand slipped away as she leaned back.
Alex opened his eyes to find her watching him. The naked yearning on her face nearly stole his breath.
“Well?” he croaked. This time, he didn’t bother trying to clear his throat.
“I do believe you’ll live to fight another day,” she said, her voice deep and sensuous.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Me, too,” she whispered.
“You know, Doc, I just noticed something.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a bit overdressed for this party.”
She cocked her head, considering him for a long moment. “You know what?” Her tone was thoughtful. “I do believe you’re right.” She stood and peeled off her shirt, dropping it to the floor to join his. Then she reached behind her to unclasp her bra and Alex forgot how to breathe.
* * *
Jillian kept her eyes on Alex as she let her arms fall to her sides, surrendering her bra to the forces of gravity. A surge of pure feminine satisfaction flooded her system at the look on his face—desire and surprise mixed with a touching amount of reverence. His heated gaze traced her curves, making her skin feel hot and tingly. She shivered slightly, enjoying the sensation.
“Doc.” His voice was little more than a growl. “It’s not nice for you to tease me like this.” He fisted his hands in his lap, the muscles in his arms going taut with strain.
She stepped forward, stopping just inches away from his mouth. His eyes grew wider and a new emotion flickered across his face: hope.
“Who said I’m teasing you?” she murmured.
Before he had a chance to respond, she leaned down and kissed him. He sucked in a breath when she ran her hands through his hair, a low moan escaping his throat.
Touch me, she silently begged, wanting to feel those big hands on her skin.
As if he’d heard her unspoken demand, he grabbed her waist and pulled, dragging her down onto his lap. Another tug and she was flush against his chest. The feel of his solid, warm body pressed against hers sent electric tingles of sensation zinging through her body to settle at her core. She squirmed, fumbling one-handed at the button of her jeans in an awkward attempt to remove one of the last barriers between them. Her movements grew increasingly frantic, which did nothing to help her coordination. Alex chuckled, causing her to bite back a moan as his chest rumbled against her sensitive nipples. His warm hand covered her own, stalling her efforts.
“Patience,” he admonished softly. “I’ve been fantasizing about this moment pretty much since we’ve met. I have no intention of rushing it.”
“Slow is good,” she agreed, running her free hand down his neck and over his chest. She flicked her index finger across his nipple, feeling a small thrill of power when he shuddered. “But slow requires self-control and I’m all out of that at the moment.” He sucked in a breat
h when she ran her hand lower, tracing the soft line of hair that bisected his flat stomach. When she reached the waistband of his boxers, she dipped her hand underneath, her fingers brushing his velvety length. “Know what I mean?”
He made a garbled sound in reply. She stroked him once, twice, and then withdrew her hand, eliciting a groan of protest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.” She couldn’t keep the smile from her voice, and he heard it.
He cracked open his eyes, revealing twin blue slits of disapproval. “Sadist,” he muttered.
She laughed. “Not at all. I’m merely abiding by your desire to take things slow.” She leaned forward to run the tip of her tongue up the side of his neck, tasting the salty tang of dried sweat on his skin. Her lips met his ear and she gently nipped his earlobe. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I’m starting to reconsider.”
“Are you sure?” She shifted, pressing her core against him while she kissed his cheekbones, his forehead, his chin. “I wouldn’t want you to feel rushed.”
“Not at all,” he gasped, rocking his hips in an instinctive rhythm. “In fact, I feel like we’re moving at a good pace.”
“Oh, good.” Jillian traced his nipples with her thumbs and then leaned down to run the flat of her tongue across his skin. His low moan of pleasure was better than any caress, heightening her own arousal.
“But there is something bothering me,” he confessed, his jaw clenched tight.
She paused on her journey south. “What’s that?”
He waited until she met his eyes. “You’re talking too much.”
Without warning, Alex put his hands under her legs and pushed her off his lap, angling her to the side so she landed on the couch. Between one heartbeat and the next he covered her body with his own, his hands and mouth running over her in a sensuous assault. His touch was gentle, but she could tell he was holding back from the way his muscles quivered with barely leashed energy. It made her feel safe and cherished to know that even in the throes of passion, Alex was careful to keep her from being hurt.
