CrossMyHeart Page 3

  He unhooked her legs from around his hips and shuddered when she slid into a shaky stance. He didn’t let go and still managed to slide her sweatshirt over her head. Her nipples puckered in the cold room but he drew each one into his warm mouth, palming whichever breast he wasn’t mouthing while she pushed down her pants.

  It had been so long and she was hot and eager, kicking away the sweats when they tangled around her ankles. She waited a heartbeat for him to chuckle at her impatience and was surprised when it didn’t come.

  He looked as if he wanted to say something but he only groaned and bent his head against her breast and suckled, drawing on her nipples until they peaked and her pussy dampened. She grabbed onto his shoulders as he descended and slowly trailed kisses down her stomach and over her abdomen as he tumbled her, naked, onto the bed.

  She reached for him but he was unbuttoning his shirt, watching her as if he were afraid she might suddenly come to her senses. She smiled when he forgot to unbutton the cuffs of his flannel shirt and ripped it off, the buttons flying across the room and pinging against the battered dresser that he’d left when he’d moved out.

  She saw his own flash of remembrance before he jerked his thermal undershirt off and unbuckled his pants, fumbling the five buttons it took to set his cock free at last. Well, almost free. She didn’t laugh at his tighty whities. She’d leave that for another time, when they might need to laugh and remember that once upon a time sex had been fun.

  His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the dark head already damp and shiny with pre-cum. She licked her lips and his dark eyes narrowed.

  “Later,” he promised, climbing onto the bed.

  He opened the drawer of the nightstand and fished a condom out of the box he’d put there six months ago and she hadn’t moved.

  She spread her legs and he smiled, crawling into the space and lowering until he settled his shoulders under her thighs. He slid his hands under her ass and blew a warm puff of air against her pussy and slowly parted her inner folds with the tip of his tongue.

  She could have come just from that single touch but she fisted the sheets and opened herself wider, welcoming the broad strokes and nimble thrusts as he flicked and explored. She quivered and felt her muscles gather but he backed off, trailing gentle kisses over her labia.

  She wanted to come but she didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want him to talk about why this was such a bad idea and he couldn’t stay. She’d hold off coming forever if he just wouldn’t talk.

  He didn’t have any intention of letting her come but he wasn’t telling her that. He just pressed his lips to her quivering pussy and kissed a path back to her breasts. He settled his cock on her stomach and she curled her hips, trying to get him to brush against her clit, but he wasn’t through showing her how much he wanted her.

  How much he needed her. And why he wasn’t spending another six months stupidly waiting for her to invite him back into her life. She writhed against his erection and bit her lip but a smile lit her cat-green eyes right before she slid her arms over her head and grabbed the headboard.

  Her nipples were the same pink color as her lips and they were already drawn up like pearls when he gently flicked them with his tongue.

  Her whimper went straight to his cock and he was forced to take a deep breath so he wouldn’t come before he was inside her. He groaned and scooted back down between her legs and slipped a long finger inside her pussy. She was so wet. Her flesh clamped around the digit and he added another. Her hard little clit protruded from soft, puffy lips and he couldn’t resist sucking it into his mouth, pumping the hard little knob of flesh with the same rhythm he finger-fucked her.

  Her hips came off the bed as he speeded up and added a swivel. Her inner muscles clamped around his fingers and she wailed as she came, grinding against his mouth so hard he could feel her spasms.

  She was still coming when he flipped her over and pushed a pillow beneath her stomach while she whimpered and pushed her ass back at him. He wanted to see her face but she’d admitted once that she felt everything more when he fucked her from behind and this was for her. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, opened her pussy and pressed inside her warm, wet flesh. The faint tremors of her orgasm rippled over his cock and it was almost enough to send him over but he stilled until they faded and smiled while she clenched the sheet with both fists.

  When he didn’t move she tucked her hips and slid away until his cock head just kissed her opening then slid her pussy back over him. He let her use him, treating him like the big purple dildo she’d let him watch her play with once upon a time when they’d been lovers who’d enjoyed shocking one another.

  When love had been play.

  She was up on all fours now, sliding over his cock with her furious rhythm, and it wasn’t play anymore. Her desperation reminded him of their last time together.

  She doesn’t expect you to stay.

  He gripped her hips and cradled her ass against his groin until the faint fluttering of her pussy slowed. She turned her head and even in profile he could tell she was surprised. Wary.

  “It’s not like you to torture,” she whispered.

  He leaned over her and cupped her breast with one hand. “I’m not in a hurry for this to end,” he whispered. Sliding his free hand between her legs, he tapped her clit with a rhythm she followed until the pleasure built to an almost unbearable crescendo.

  He had to quell a shudder when she flexed her inner muscles and he knew neither of them was going to last much longer. He grudgingly released her breast and clit before he stroked his hands over her hips and slid home, fast and deep and hard. Her guttural cry as she came ripped through him and sent him spiraling into his own orgasm and he had to catch himself on his elbows so he didn’t collapse. He shuddered, waiting for the tremors to recede.

  He pulled the pillow from beneath them and gently lowered her before getting up to dispose of the condom. He slipped back into bed and dragged the covers over them. Spooned around her, tucking her ass into his groin, and was warm for the first time in six months.

  “Jack…” Her tentative whisper was vulnerable and uncertain.

  He slid a leg over her hip and scooted closer. “I know. Just go to sleep, Valentine. We’ll talk later,” he promised. And this time he wouldn’t be issuing any ultimatums. And he wouldn’t be leaving until they’d worked out whatever they’d left unfinished six months ago.

  He tucked her closer, skin to skin, and fell asleep to the sound of sleet pelting the windows and her soft breath whispering across his arm, still chastising himself for not being brave enough to walk through her door until now.

  Chapter Three

  Valentine woke up cold. She was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep with a warm hand wrapped around her breast and a semi-firm erection nestled between her ass cheeks. Not that she wasn’t capable of dreaming that Jack Sutton was between her thighs, trying to nudge her awake.

  That particular dream had managed to wake her several times this past six months. But waking up hadn’t usually included the scent of coffee. Well, Jack’s version of coffee, which she had no intention of complaining about.

  At least not until she figured out what they were doing.

  It would have been easier to understand if he’d taken her on the kitchen counter or up against the wall, hot and quick. They did hot and quick extremely well. Hot, she’d give him but there hadn’t been anything quick since he’d kissed her in the kitchen.

  She knew from experience that great make-up sex wouldn’t hold them together forever. But this time it had reminded her that she’d missed Jack Sutton in her bed.

  That would never change. And neither would their differences.

  He’d put her robe at the foot of the bed. She’d missed that. The comfort of someone anticipating what she’d want or need. And being able to reciprocate. Small, important day-to-day acts that, sometime during their time together, she’d started taking for granted.

  She
padded to the bathroom and started the shower. The curtain was already wet and her shaving cream and razor were on the counter. There were whiskers in the sink and she smiled at his familiar forgetfulness. She rinsed them away, slipped off her robe and took a quick shower.

  She was almost surprised when he didn’t join her. But maybe Jack was wondering if what was happening was just a temporary bout of insanity. Maybe he’d figured out that sex wouldn’t solve all of their problems. If—no, when—he left this time, she was going to need to take another job. Preferably out of town.

  She should have taken the job in Tucson. Because she’d begun to suspect that she might be just as much of a thrill junkie as Jack and what was happening could be nothing more than an adrenaline rush. The lure of the roller coaster that terrified her but drew her at the same time because she knew she was going to feel every emotion sharper, brighter, until it burned so hot it consumed her.

  And when it was all over, she would barely be able to think straight enough to remember why she shouldn’t be happy. She’d only been through this once and it should have been more than enough to warn her off Jack Sutton.

  The problem was, every time she saw him she was ready for another ride.

  The sun had already gone down and the house was so cold that she didn’t waste any time after she dried off. She added a bulky pink cowl-neck sweater to the pair of clean jeans she’d found in the laundry basket she hadn’t unloaded yet and dug under a stack of folded towels to find her last clean pair of wool socks before heading to the kitchen.

  For some weak coffee and a long overdue conversation.

  He was pouring himself a cup, a familiar milk carton within reach. Another cup sat empty beside it.

  His dark, close-cropped hair was wet and standing up in little devil-horn cowlicks she itched to smooth down but that was just so she could touch him. She knew he’d shaved but his cheeks were still shadowed and it wasn’t because of her girly razor. The man had a perpetual five o’clock shadow. And he was wearing a more faded pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt. He hadn’t left any clothes when he’d moved so he had to have brought them.

  “I always carry a spare set of clothes,” he said before she could ask him why. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a baby puke and crap on you at the same time.” He turned around and in the glare of the overhead kitchen light he looked a little pale beneath his olive complexion. “We took a couple of kids out of a crack house one night,” he said, his voice tight and soft. “One little guy wasn’t out of diapers yet but he had the flu or something. He was running at both ends.”

  “Was that before or after my show on how broken the foster care system is?” The show had triggered the beginning of their end. They’d had a terse discussion that had turned into a door-banging screaming match and ended in a week of silence except for the most basic exchanges. Jack looked as uncomfortable as she felt and she could tell he was remembering.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, scrubbing his face with his hands as if he could wipe away the memory. “I didn’t mean to go there.”

  She almost wished he had. “You think I’d be angry if I thought you wanted back into my messed-up life?”

  He poured her a cup of coffee before she asked for one. “I should never have described your life as messed up. I wish I could take back a lot of things from that night.”

  Their last night together had been so ugly that most of the time she had to focus on something else so she didn’t think about it. She couldn’t get away from it now. “We both said things that probably should have been said months before,” she said, cradling the cup he handed her.

  “You were right when you told me that I wanted you to change to make my life more comfortable,” he admitted. “It scared me every time I thought about the nuts out there who threaten you. Most of them just want to rant but there’s always the one who might take it further. The one you might not realize is a serious threat.”

  “Is that what this morning was about—the whole sex and fear and violence connection? Because I have to tell you that was quite a reaction for a little spray paint and a busted door.”

  “What happened this morning should have happened six months ago and probably would have if I hadn’t insisted that you marry me.” He took a deep breath. “I was afraid you were slipping away from me and I thought that if we were married I wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

  “The ultimatum was about my fear. I’ve spent the last few months trying to think of a good enough reason for you to let me back into your life. But I wanted you to do the asking—so yeah, you were right about my macho-bullshit posturing.

  “Whatever happens now, I want you to know that I’ve regretted leaving almost every minute since I slammed out of this house six months ago.”

  “So this isn’t about my kicked-in door and latest collection of graffiti?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “No, but before we get too much further into what it is, I need to tell you something and before you have a hissy fit about me not believing you can take care of yourself, count to ten and think about it.”

  “I don’t have hissy fits. I might scream or slam a door but I don’t do the foot-stamping-cross-my-arms-over-my-chest, pouty thing.” She did however do the raised eyebrow thing and didn’t bother to deny it. “What have you done?”

  “I called Pete and told him what happened. I asked him to run a couple of your old shows this weekend and cleared a few vacation days with my boss.”

  Once upon a time the news that he’d called Pete on her behalf would have started a fight. Right now it didn’t seem half as important as his other revelation. She didn’t even try to keep her mouth from dropping open. “McCoy gave you time off with only a moment’s notice?”

  “I’ve got the weekend. I thought I’d look at some of your more interesting hate mail. And Daniels is going to call me if he finds out anything about who redecorated the—your house.”

  She frowned and he asked, “What?”

  “I’m sorry but that just doesn’t sound like by-the-book-you’d-better-have-a-good-reason-for-this McCoy.”

  “He’s been a little distracted by a missing person case. Not really himself.”

  Jack never took vacation days. McCoy had probably granted them while still in a state of shock. Something she’d happily pay good money to see. Once upon a time, McCoy had insinuated in a roundabout way that her views weren’t winning Jack any points. She had a little trouble believing he was distracted by anything enough to behave out of his normally hard-ass character mode but she was more concerned with what was going on between her and Jack right now.

  “So…what? We’re going to take two days and figure out why this guy is pissed off? Or why neither one of us has made a move toward the other one in six months? Or why this morning happened? What are the rules here, Jack? Just so we’re clear.”

  “Even if this hadn’t happened, I think you were probably going to find me on your doorstep someday soon. It’s taken me six months to figure out that just being married won’t make or break this relationship. How about we do it your way this time? No rules. No ultimatums.”

  Jack Sutton without rules.

  The mind boggled. And hers already felt scrambled.

  She took a sip of her coffee and wanted to gag. How did he drink this stuff? “I’m not upset with you for calling Pete. I told him before I left this morning that if the weather got any worse he was probably going to end up running a couple of my old shows. He didn’t have a problem with it.”

  Sutton narrowed his big brown eyes. “He acted like he was doing me a big favor and I owed him.”

  Well, duh. “Pete’s in the business of collecting favors because he never knows when we’ll need one. He loves when a cop owes him. How do you think he finds Corbett a place in the shelters?” She laughed and shook her head.

  “He calls me because he knows we’ll find him and a place for him to stay,” he said.

  “He’s never told me that.”
>
  Jack shrugged. “I asked him not to.”

  Okay, that hadn’t really surprised her but as she watched him taking inventory of her meager supplies she said, “I should have known.” She couldn’t help but smile as he turned away and could have sworn he was embarrassed to be caught.

  Jack caught her smile out of the corner of his eye as he rummaged through her almost barren cabinets while she pretended to drink the coffee he’d poured her. “I wish I had picked up more than milk and cat food at the store. It looks like our options for breakfast are corned beef hash or canned hot tamales. We could be really gourmet and add the can of chili that expired last month.”

  She shrugged. “I usually grab some takeout or have something delivered. I’d rather not ask anyone to come out in this so I vote for the hash. I think I have some eggs in the fridge.”

  “They only expired two weeks ago,” he said and shook his head.

  “I never learned how to cook. I heat things up. I can even grill in a pinch. I grew up on takeout and drive-through. Other than that, if it didn’t come out of a can or a box with directions, I didn’t bother with it,” she said sheepishly.

  “That wasn’t so hard,” he said, a little off balance because he couldn’t remember seeing her embarrassed before.

  “You never asked,” she said, almost cautiously and he realized that he never had. And she hadn’t volunteered much information about herself. They’d spent all their time either fighting or tearing each other’s clothes off.

  “Your cowboy boots distracted me,” he said, turning up the flame under the skillet.

  She frowned. “You do realize there isn’t anything in that pan.”

  He caught himself before he chuckled. “If you want really great hash, you heat the pan, then you add some oil and wait until it sizzles, then you add the hash, schmuck it around until it forms a layer and leave it alone until the edges start to get crisp, and don’t flip it over until it’s brown underneath.”

  “When do you put the eggs in?”