Cuff Me(73)

“I guess you don’t want my mouth here then,” he said, moving imperceptibly closer.

Jill arched toward him, but he moved back, just out of reach. “What’s this? Changing your mind?”

“Vin,” she whined.

He looked up at her, his eyes hungry. “Thought you didn’t want a lover.”

“I lied,” she whispered as her back arched again so that her nipple brushed his lips. He rewarded her with a soft lick before he pulled back again.

“See, I don’t know that I can work with a liar, Henley. Seems to me—”

Jill shoved him onto his back, rolling on top of him. She maneuvered his big arms to his side, her hands pinning him to the bed and he let her, just for a moment, his eyes gleaming mischievously up at her.

“Ah, so you did change your mind.”

Jill didn’t bother responding. She was too busy moving her lips over his shoulder. His pecs. Her teeth grazed his nipple and he hissed.

“What about you,” she said, her mouth moving slowly down his torso. “Do you want a lover?”

Her hand closed around his cock as he groaned. “Ah—”

“What was that?” she asked innocently, stroking him.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes what?” she moved farther down, her lips brushing against the tip of him, relishing his guttural groan.

“Yes,” he said, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Yes, I definitely need a lover.”

She couldn’t resist the small smile of victory before her lips closed around him.

Lover was good enough.

For now.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


It was typical that the moment one thing went right in Vincent Moretti’s life, another would go horribly wrong.

“I can’t believe they’re closing the case,” Jill said for the hundredth time around a bite of her turkey sandwich. “We were so close!”

He gave her a look as he took a drink of Coke.

“Okay, so we weren’t close,” she said, mouth mostly full. “But we were getting there. We always get there.”

He dragged his fry through ketchup, barely registering that the fry was cold and that he didn’t even like ketchup.

Vin threw the fry back on the plate and took a deep breath. He was trying not to be pissed. He really was.

But it was the first case that his superiors had ever pulled him from.

And the worst part was, he didn’t even blame them.

Not only had they not solved the case—they hadn’t gotten f*cking close. If you held a gun to Vin’s head and told him to name the killer—he couldn’t.

He didn’t have a f*cking clue who’d killed Lenora Birch, and the lack of control made him irritable. Itchy.

Pissed.

Jill took a sip of her iced tea, only to pull it back when she realized her glass was empty. She looked around for a server, then sighed. “I miss when Maggie used to work here.”

“You’re just saying that because of the free pie,” he said.

She had a point though.

Much as he was happy that his new sister-in-law had gotten out of her dead-end job as an under-appreciated waitress at the Darby Diner, the weekday lunchtime gal who’d taken Maggie’s place had proven to be a good deal more interested in her iPhone than her customers.

Jill set her empty iced tea glass aside and reached for his Coke, taking a long sip before digging back into her sandwich. “How come you’re not more mad about this?” she asked.

“It’s diner food, Henley. Our bill’s not going to be more than twenty dollars.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not about the diner. About the case.”

He reached across the table to take her fry. It was every bit as cold and soggy as his.

“I am upset,” he muttered. “I just don’t know what ranting about it’s going to do.”

“You rant all the time.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Usually I rant and you sprinkle glitter on everything. But since you’re ranting on this one, I figure it’s time for a role reversal.”

“Oh, got it,” she said. “So if I’m the grumpy one today, and you’re going to take on the positive one”—she glanced around dramatically—“I see no glitter. Or even a smile.”

He forced his mouth into a farce of a smile, which coaxed a giggle from her.

Her giggle then coaxed an actual smile from him, and before he knew what was happening, they were staring across the table grinning at each other.

It had been like that in the week since they’d started sleeping together.

One minute they were their usual old bickering selves, and the next minute, it was, well… happy.

Vincent’s smile slipped a bit as the thought that had been quietly nagging him for days crept up once again.

What if this thing between him and Jill was part of the reason they hadn’t solved the case.

Technically, they separated their personal and professional life.

He didn’t cop a feel when they were on the job, much as he wanted to. They didn’t kiss in between coffee breaks, didn’t talk about them while they were on duty.

But if he was honest—really brutally honest—his head hadn’t been in the game since Jill had returned from Florida with that damn ring on her finger.