Baddest Bad Boys(39)

He gazed down at her for a long moment. “That works for me.”

They stared into each other’s eyes. A thousand I love you’s jostled to get past the lump of emotion in her throat, but the barrier held, and body language was all she had to work with. So she got to it, starting in on the buttons of her blouse. Jon helped, with a clumsy urgency that sent buttons spinning to the floor. He tugged the thing off her shoulders, and fumbled for the zip of her mini while his other hand splayed over the black tank top. “No bra?” He sounded scandalized.

Laughter loosened her throat. “Don’t need one.”

“The hell you don’t.” He shoved the mini down over her hips, and gasped when his hands found her bottom bared by a skimpy black lace thong. “A thong, with a miniskirt? What is this place, a strip joint?”

Her laughter redoubled. “So I won’t have panty lines, you puritanical lunk. Are you going to get on with it, or what?”

He tugged the flimsy stretch lace down over her bottom. “God, yes. But I think you need to change jobs. I can’t handle the uniform.”

He pushed her down against the cot, and shoved the tank top up over her breasts. She wore only that and the wildly impractical spike-heeled sandals. Absurd for waitressing, but just right in bed for Jon.

He stared down, hot-eyed, and wrenched off his shirt. He was so beautiful. The need in his eyes almost dazzled her to the angry weal on his shoulder. She reached out and caressed it with her fingertips as he sank to his knees beside the cot. “Does it still hurt?” she asked softly.

“Right now, I don’t notice a thing.” He bent like he meant to make good on his promise to worship at her shrine with his tongue, but she reached down and yanked at his belt. She wanted head to toe contact, every hard, hot inch of him deep inside her. His mouth on hers, his whisker burn rasping her, his weight shaking the bed frame.

“Get those jeans off,” she ordered. “Right now.”

“But I wanted to—”

“No back talk,” she said. “Didn’t you say this was all about me?”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I want to—”

“I’m telling you what I want. I want those jeans. Off. Now.”

He shoved his pants down. “But I want you to be ready.”

“You can make me wet with your voice alone,” she told him.

His eyes flashed. “Oh yeah? Show me.”

She opened her legs for him, showing him the flushed, glistening folds. He stared down, mesmerized. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

“I love you.” The words rushed out. “I love you, Jon.”

He closed his eyes, and sighed. “God, it feels good to hear that.”

She curled her fingers around him. His heartbeat throbbed against her hand. He covered her hands with his own and guided them, sliding his erection against the length of her slick furrow.

“I’m still going to do the Circo, you know,” she blurted as he settled between her legs. “I want it more than anything.”

“Of course. It’s who you are. It’s what I’m in love with.”

“Oh,” she said shakily, as he nudged his way inside. “Oh.”

“We’ll do the long distance thing if we have to, I guess, but I don’t know how long I’ll survive that. I want to be with you every damn day.”

“Me, too.” She clutched his shoulders as he sank deeper. “Maybe I’ll…maybe I’ll get lucky, and be able to work one of the fixed shows, in New York, or Chicago. Or even here, in San Francisco.”

He kissed her with reverent tenderness. “We’ll work it out,” he said. “I love it that you juggle eggs naked and wear a red nose and make kids laugh. I love it that you’re brave enough to follow your dream. I want to spend the rest of my life enjoying that. Honoring it.”

She dragged him closer, taking in every delicious bit of him. “Aw. Jon. How sweet,” she said breathlessly. “Who says you’re not eloquent?”

“I guess you just inspire me.”

“Well, let me just inspire you for the rest of your life, how about?”

A grin of pure joy split his face. “Done deal,” he said.

AFTER THE LOVIN’

E.C. Sheedy

1
He seized her upper arms and yanked her hard against him, his grip a vise. Too tight. Tighter.

Tommi struggled to escape, pushed at his chest, fear rooting deep behind her rib cage. “Let go of me.” She wished the words sounded more demanding, less frantic.

She wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

Reid slid his hands up to encircle her neck, rested his thumbs on the pulse jumping insanely at the base of her throat. He smiled down at her, his brilliant blue eyes shards of ice behind eyelids narrowed in threat.

Again she tried to step back, pull away from his grasp.

“Don’t move, baby. I like you exactly where you are.” He put pressure on her larynx and lifted her chin with a thumb, forcing her to look up at him. “Let’s make sure you’ve got things straight.” There was no smile this time. “You f*ck with me, you pay the price. You clear on that?”

“Clear,” she choked out. Clearer still was the ugly fact she’d dug herself into a bottomless, black hole she didn’t know how to get out of.