Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas #1)(73)
“Okay, I’ll bite…how am I a coward?”
I turned over to face him. “The moment we start to get closer, you shut down. You keep our physical interaction in check and all of your emotions on the back burner.”
“I’m an FBI agent, damn it. I’m trying to do what’s right.”
“And you think frisking me and leaving it unfinished is right? Why do you have to pull out a magnifying glass every time your pants come off?” I realized how it sounded when both of us shifted our eyes down to his crotch. “Oh, you know what I mean. It’s like you’re looking for a way out.”
“You actually think I wanted to stop? Emily, I wanted to take you right then. I could have. Hell, I would have. But don’t you think you deserve more than fornicating in an old pickup?” He laced his fingers through mine and smiled. “I want to make love with you in a bed. Not screw you in the front seat of a truck because I’m angry with you and need to relieve some tension. And I prefer you to be mentally present, although, after tonight, I’m thinking that part could be optional.”
I jabbed him lightly in the ribs with my elbow.
He pulled my hand up and kissed it lightly. “Ever been bedridden?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Something cold and hard slipped around my wrist. “This will keep you from running off again.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re handcuffing me to you?”
Jake grinned proudly. “Yep.”
“This better be something kinky.”
He rolled away, and the bracelet pulled at my arm. “If you think sleeping is kinky, then you’re on the right track.”
Between the drunken bar brawl and the guilt over the phone call to Gina, I didn’t have it in me to argue. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Damn straight.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “But maybe tomorrow night, I’ll throw you a bone.”
“Big of you.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
I shot him a look of disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re scheduling sex with me. What are we, fifty years old?”
“I’m not scheduling. It’s more like I’m telling you what’s going to happen. God knows it hasn’t worked out in our favor the way we’ve been doing it. Tomorrow, we’re going to try it my way.”
“No thanks,” I grumbled, declaring a Mexican standoff. “You’ve lost your chance.”
“We’ll see.” The corners of his mouth crinkled slightly. “You can consider it a late birthday present.”
“Wow. You’re really full of yourself. Don’t light a candle you don’t intend to blow out.”
“It’ll be win-win, I promise. Now quit acting like it’s going to be as bad as getting a tooth pulled and go to bed.”
“I hope I piss on you in my sleep.”
“Now that’s kinky,” he noted with a chuckle.
…
It was the worst night of sleep I’d ever had. The handcuff dug into my wrist, making it sore, and at some point during the night, the sound of a rainstorm began slamming into the roof. Lightning crackled through the sky, brightening the room, and thunder roared in my ears. It was like sleeping in a drum while someone beat on the outside. It didn’t stop until close to dawn, which is when I finally drifted off.
When I woke up, the handcuff still dangled from my wrist, but Jake wasn’t attached. Thank God he hadn’t hooked it to the bed frame. Otherwise, I would’ve peed myself waiting for him to come back. I wanted to go back to bed, but the stale scent of alcohol on my breath made me sick. I brushed my teeth and my hair, dressed in khaki shorts and a pink, stretchy tank top, and hurried over to the main house. I hoped I wasn’t too late for breakfast, but wasn’t sure how it would fare on my stomach.
Floss stood over a skillet, flipping pancakes and frying pork sausage patties. Hank and Jake sipped coffee at the kitchen table with newspapers in front of their faces. Only Hank and Floss looked up as I entered.
“Good morning,” she said. “Hungry? I’ve got a new batch of pancakes nearly ready and homemade blackberry syrup on the table.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” I replied. “Can I help you do anything?”
She eyeballed the handcuffs still attached to my wrist and smiled. “You can sit your hind end in a chair and eat some breakfast, that’s what you can do.”
I did as I was told, pulling up a chair next to Jake. He folded the newspaper up and set it on the table. His eye had completely swelled shut and the side of his face looked like someone had taken a tire iron to it.
He pointed to the cuffs. “Want me to take those off?”
“Definitely,” I said, holding up my wrist as he pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked them. “Does your eye hurt?”
“My whole face hurts.”
Hank glanced over at me from behind his newspaper. “Must’ve been some fight last night.”
I leaned over, lightly touching the ugly purplish bruise on Jake’s cheek, making him wince. “I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault, but I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
Jake’s good eye widened slightly. At first, I figured it was because he never thought he’d get an apology out of me, but then Hank spoke. “How was it your fault?”