Buried (Bone Secrets, #3)(41)

Some coincidence. She’d known exactly why she’d thrown that black duo in her bag. Because she might end up in a hotel room with Mr. Hottie. And here she was.

The only thing holding her back was herself. She was certain he wouldn’t turn her down. She’d caught him staring at various parts of her body multiple times, and he’d been putting out that protective vibe since her house was trashed. She could almost smell the pheromones.

Today had been one of the most stressful days of her life. There was someone back in Portland, looking for Chris, desperate enough to attack her in her home. But putting nearly an entire state between them and the attacker felt good, and being close to Michael made her feel safe. Tomorrow he’d help her find her brother, but tonight…

He’d held her hand.

That’s what’d touched her the most and made her melt inside. When he’d taken her hand at dinner with the sheriff as they talked about her nephew, she’d wanted to curl up on his lap and bury her head in his neck.

But tonight she wasn’t seeking comfort. She wanted a taste of the wild ride that the man promised. It leaked out of every pore of his body. Pure testosterone pumped up with smooth male confidence.

What was the worst that could happen? He f*cked her and never called? Yes, that would suck, but she’d live. And probably have a memorable night.

Damn it, she wanted that memorable night.

She wanted it bad. Bad enough to make her step outside her comfort zone. She wanted to be a different woman tonight. Not Principal Jacobs. Not perfectly neat and organized Jamie who didn’t take a step without a plan.

She looked in the mirror and ran her hands over flat abs. Boobs looked good. A thong made almost every ass look good. She could feel the wine warming her limbs, giving her the courage she needed. She wanted Michael Brody and was about to let him know it. She lifted her chin and opened the door.



He stared.

A goddess had emerged from the bathroom and stood in front of him in black lace. Her chin lifted, and she held his gaze, inviting and fearless.

He had no voice. He reached out to touch one thigh and pulled back. He needed to simply look some more, mentally soak in the sight. Jamie was all smooth skin and long limbs, with legs that didn’t end. She brushed her hair over one shoulder and his heart nearly stopped.

“Sweet mother of pearl. You are smoking hot.”

Her laugh warmed his heart.

“What are you doing?” he choked out. She looked ready to go several rounds in bed with him. And he’d just talked himself into having a conversation with her.

His brain shifted mental gears. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Don’t say anything. I don’t want you talking yourself out of this.”

Jamie’s lips turned up. “You’re learning me well. Because if I overthink this, I’ll be back in that bathroom in a heartbeat, and I’ll put all my clothes back on.” A touch of nervousness appeared in her gaze.

And if he made a wrong move, she’d run.

“God, woman. I want you so much at this moment, I think I’m about to explode.”

The nervous light in her eyes evaporated.

“While you were in the bathroom, I convinced myself to spend our evening talking about our feelings.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“I know. Stupid, huh?” This time he did touch her thigh. Silky. Just like he’d known it’d feel.

“You have feelings to tell me about?”

“Oh yeah.” He placed both palms on her thighs, staring at the skin under his fingers. I want to feel you everywhere.

“Michael. Really. What did you want to talk to me about?”

He blinked. And looked up into questioning light green eyes.

Talk to her.

He didn’t want to talk right now. Every thought except one had blown clear out of his brain. He scrambled to get his thoughts together and removed his hands from her legs, because the feel of her skin was short-circuiting his mind even more. She sat on the bed beside him, holding his gaze, and reached for his hand. Hers were slightly damp. This close, he could smell the wine from her mouth.

He licked his lips.

He’d read somewhere that women were turned on by what they heard? And men by what they see?

Too true.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started. “I want this. I want what you’re…offering. I’ve wanted that from the first time I saw you at the door at your house. You’re the full package, you know? Brains, beauty, and some balls.”

She scowled slightly.

“That’s a compliment.” He wiped at his forehead. Compliment? “I mean, you went through some tough shit and came out great.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Ah, f*ck me. Damn it. You’d think I don’t know how to talk.” He grabbed both her hands, turned toward her, and looked at her in earnest. “Listen. You do it for me, princess. In an amazing way. You get me hot with one look, but that’s not all of it. I don’t want just that. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and stretch out a leg and feel yours against it. I want to open my bathroom cabinet and see your makeup next to my stuff. When I pour my coffee in the morning, I want to pour two cups.”

She simply blinked at him.

“I want to know your opinion on the next election and that stupid kid beauty pageant TV show and if you like Indian food.” He sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if you like to travel or see movies or go camping, but I want to find out! What I’m saying is that I like you, Jamie. A lot. I don’t want to just have an awesome night of sex—and it will be awesome—I want to keep moving forward. Does that make sense?”