Catch Your Breath (20 page)

God. She’d never been so hot and wet. Between the rain and the cramped car and the
heat from Jimmy’s body pressed to her, she couldn’t find enough oxygen. At least that’s
what she told herself. But she knew it was the effect his mouth had on her. And she
wanted more. So much more, but he wouldn’t give her any control.

The hand pinned above her head was losing circulation, but she didn’t care. With her
free hand, she reached for the snap on his pants. Her fingers brushed the juncture
where their bodies joined, and even with all the fabric between them, she felt her
heat and his hardness. A deep groan rumbled from him.

He pulled away from her and shifted her body, angling it so one of her feet planted
on the floor and the other wrapped around his waist. He released her hand, and she
thought for sure they were finally going to get naked enough to have sex, but Jimmy
disappointed her again. He teased her mouth with his tongue to lull her and then captured
both of her hands.

Holding her hands above her head, he slid his free hand to her waist where her shorts
were still open. He leaned back to stare into her eyes as he slid his hand into her
pants.

Fingertips grazed her hair, sending tingles throughout her body. He stroked her outer
lips, teasing her. His eyes were devilish. She licked her lips and forced her body
to lie still. He wanted control; she could give him that.

Finally one long finger slid over her slit, skimming over her clit, the barest touch.
Then back with a little more pressure. Her breath caught in her throat, so she opened
her mouth to capture more air. She focused on Jimmy and saw a smirk cross his lips.

His finger circled her clit and then rubbed it in a delicious swirling motion. She
sighed a moan. One finger entered her, drawing out and then back in. As much as she
tried to give Jimmy control of her body, her hips had their own idea and she thrust
up to meet his hand. Tension coiled deep inside her, and sparks of pleasure shot through
her system as his palm collided with her body.

Jimmy let go of her hands, but she kept them in the same place. He circled an arm
around her waist and every bit of his attention focused on her pleasure, her needs,
as a second finger joined the first, his slick movements drowning her. Quickened pace
followed by torturous strokes. Her body had no idea what to expect. Hard then gentle.
Fast then slow.

She closed her eyes to absorb every movement, to focus on his hand, to try to predict,
anticipate, participate. She couldn’t focus. Her brain was hazy and her nerves were
strung so tight, she was afraid to move.

Suddenly his long finger curled inside her, while his thumb pressed on her clit, and
she was lost. He covered her mouth with his, probably to swallow her scream. Her muscles
clamped down on his hand, and moisture flooded her panties and his palm. Her entire
body shuddered, but Jimmy continued holding her, touching her, stroking her.

Moira had no idea how long she lay there in Jimmy’s arms, panting and kissing him
mindlessly. His hand was still in her shorts, as drenched as she was after the downpour.
He’d reduced her to a relaxed puddle of nothing. She couldn’t move.

Jimmy chuckled as if he could read her mind. He pulled his hand out and buttoned her
shorts. With what little energy she had left, she pushed herself up. “What are you
doing?”

“Taking you to your car.”

“But—”

He popped the door open and exited before she could formulate a complete thought.
He restarted the car and flipped the rearview mirror down to look at her splayed in
his backseat. “That’s a good look on you.”

“What look is that? Pissed off?” She tried for snarky, but failed miserably.

He chuckled again. “Well sated.”

“You could be too if you gave me a chance.”

Pulling back into the street, he said, “I’m fine.”

But the words sounded strangled. He wasn’t fine. He couldn’t be even if he’d only
been half as horny as she’d been when they started. When he parked again, this time
right in front of her car, she leaned over the seat and slid her hands down his chest.
“We can continue this.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “Not tonight. I don’t have a bed.”

“We were doing pretty good right here.”

He responded with little more than a grunt. Like it had been her fault he didn’t get
off. He wouldn’t let her do anything. That’s what she’d thought he wanted. Damn man
needed to learn to use his words.

The door beside her swung open and Jimmy held his hand out to help her up. Good thing
he was such a gentleman; she wasn’t sure her legs would work. She stood and flexed
her thigh muscles. Working. The rain had finally stopped, leaving cool air and sweet
smells behind. He held her hand and walked her to her car.

She ran a hand down his chest. “Why do you keep stopping? We both want this. So much.”

“I know.”

“Talk to me.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. Then he lowered his head and kissed her,
melting her knees again. She leaned against the car, glad for its support. His kiss
was gentle and smooth and left her wanting more when he pulled away.

“Good night, Moira. Call me when you get home.”

She nodded, but wanted to prod him for answers. She found it hard to argue when he
kept answering her with kisses instead of words. Once she was inside her car, he backed
off and watched from the curb as she pulled away.

Moira drove on autopilot, but when she was down the block and around the corner, the
nagging sensation of questions unanswered hit her. Jimmy hadn’t answered her. All
she wanted to know was why he wouldn’t fuck her. A pretty simple question.

He wanted to, that much was clear. She knew he wasn’t a virgin, so he certainly wasn’t
saving himself for marriage.

That left her.

Why did he refuse to have sex with her?

That single question wormed its way into her brain and chomped away at all the remaining
effects of a great orgasm. By the time she parked in front of her apartment, she was
feeling sorry for herself, convinced Jimmy saw something innately wrong with her that
made her unfuckable.

She got ready for bed, knowing Jimmy expected her call, but she knew she couldn’t
talk to him without sounding pitiful or accusatory, so she crawled into bed alone
with her thoughts.

J
immy strode into his house and was greeted with blissful silence. Of course, the one
time he assumed he wouldn’t find it, quiet surrounded him. He turned back to look
at the street as if he could catch Moira, even though he’d watched her drive off.

His dick throbbed in his jeans, rubbing uncomfortably against the denim. He went to
the bathroom to take a shower. Setting his phone on the toilet tank in case Moira
called, he stepped under the spray, seeking relief. The hot water poked at his sensitive
skin. Images of Moira writhing against him, pale skin flush with pleasure, while moaning
his name made his dick twitch. He stroked his cock, hearing Moira’s panting breath
in his ears. He closed his eyes and smelled her musky scent.

His breath quickened as his hand moved faster. He imagined sliding into Moira, hearing
her sigh, feeling her wet warmth pull him closer. Bracing his forearm against the
cold tile, he groaned his relief as his cock spurted.

After catching his breath, he lathered up and washed. Moira’s quiet voice echoed in
his head.
Why do you keep stopping?

He felt like an asshole now, after the fact, but in the moment, he knew it wasn’t
right. Hell, yes, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her blind.

And that was the problem. Moira wasn’t some chick to fuck. They were already more
and he didn’t want to screw it up. Maybe she was the woman he’d been looking for,
the mother of his children, in which case, she deserved better than to be treated
like a weekend fling, fucked in the backseat of a car.

But maybe she wasn’t his future wife. In which case, she was still Liam’s little sister
and fucking her would cause a rift he might not be able to repair.

The worst part was that he wasn’t sure which way he hoped it would go. He didn’t know
what he wanted.

He twisted the knobs to shut off the water. As usual, they squeaked and the old pipes
rattled. The sound reminded him that he wanted more than this.

He wanted a home that would hold his family comfortably, where the appliances worked
without a kick, where he could relax. Ever since moving back in with his dad, he hadn’t
been able to relax at all. Between steadily progressing on the job and carefully watching
Dad’s diabetes and policing his brothers when necessary, he never had time to step
back and breathe.

Moira made him want to breathe.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he grabbed his phone. She should’ve been home
by now, and she hadn’t called. He dialed and waited for her to answer and hoped he
could tell her about the realization he’d had in the shower. The phone rang and went
to voice mail.

He couldn’t leave a message, so he disconnected. He weighed his options and decided
to send a text to make sure she got home safely. Taking the phone with him to the
living room and the couch, which had become his temporary bed, he sat in the dark
and waited. Twenty more minutes passed before he got a response.

I’m home. Already in bed. Good night.

The text was short and gave him the information he needed, but not what he wanted.
He expected Moira to say more; she always did. He should start a conversation, but
didn’t know how, so he sat staring at the screen. Then it lit with another text.

I had a great time tonight. Thank you.

Maybe that was the only opening he’d get.

He ran his fingers over the screen of his phone and thought about a response. He could
say good night and leave it at that. Or he could answer her question as a text and
not have to see her reaction or hear her laugh at him.

I had a great time too.

He waited, wanting to continue the conversation.

Could’ve fooled me.

It was one of the best first dates I’ve ever had.

While waiting for Moira to answer, he dropped his towel, pulled on a pair of underwear,
and settled on the couch for the night.

You didn’t answer my question. That said plenty.

Shit. She thought he didn’t want her or some other ridiculous imaginary reason. He
lay against the pillow propped on the arm of the couch.

I didn’t answer because I didn’t know. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Sounds
like not saying anything was just as bad.

Didn’t know . . . but now you do?

Figured she’d pick up on that. One small word and she found it.

Maybe. I want to take it slow. Figure out how we feel. I don’t want to screw things
up between us.

His finger hovered over the send button. Sharing his thoughts rarely worked well for
him. He didn’t come from a family that talked about their feelings, but Moira did.
Knowing that gave him a little advantage. Plus, she was an obvious talker. He hit
send and then set the phone on his chest, as if the slight added weight would calm
his heart.

He waited for the vibration of an incoming text, but felt nothing. His eyelids drifted
shut and he wondered what Moira was thinking. One good thing about her: he didn’t
usually have to guess about what she thought because she said every freaking thing
aloud.

A sudden buzz jolted him awake. He must’ve dozed. He rubbed his eyes and stared at
his phone.

I know how I feel—horny.

The tightness in his chest lifted. Flirtatious banter with Moira he could handle.

You’re exaggerating. You were well taken care of tonight.

That sure of yourself?

I took a shower hearing you moan my name and smelling you on my hand. I’m damn sure
of myself.

The words reminded him of her sounds and smells, and he got hard again.

What did you do about it?

Was she really wanting to have text sex? This was weirder than phone sex.

You have an excellent imagination. Figure it out.

Spoilsport. Want to know what I’m doing?

She was killing him. Rather than just thinking it, he told her.

No. It might kill me and I need to work tomorrow.

As soon as he sent it, he could almost hear her laughter.

Maybe I’ll just show you next time we see each other.

Her answer was enough to set his mind at ease that she wanted to see him again.

I don’t know when I’ll be free. I have to check both my schedule and James Buchanan’s.

Let me know when and I’ll make myself available. Good night for real this time.

The reality of his life settled in again. Going to work in the morning didn’t bother
him. It was having the dual identity after he signed out for the night. He felt like
he was treading water as James Buchanan. He just wanted to catch a break to solve
the case.

With any luck, he and Gabby would make some headway with the escort services Stan
Decker had given him. He let his eyes close, but thoughts of high-class hookers and
thieves followed.

He wondered what would drive a supposedly happily married man to hire an escort. Whether
for company or sex, he didn’t understand. If you’re not happy with your marriage,
change it or divorce. What lies did these men tell themselves to make their behavior
acceptable?

Moira spent her morning calling the escort service numbers she’d copied from Jimmy.
He’d probably have a cow if he knew, but she hadn’t lied to him when she said her
story wouldn’t interfere with his case. Part of her hoped she’d hear and recognize
the mystery woman’s voice at one of the services, but life wasn’t that easy.

She’d planned to speak to whoever answered the phone at each place and ask about possible
employment. If she could at least get an interview, it would get her foot in the door.
She could find women to interview anonymously. Unfortunately, with the exception of
the first, each of the numbers led to a generic voice mail stating nothing more than
the phone number.

But before she could get ahead of herself, she had to develop a plan. She had to become
someone other than Moira O’Leary, reporter. She had to be a nobody.

Creating a phony life was more fun than Moira anticipated. Her imagination rolled
with it, and within the hour, she had a cover story. She studied her calendar, which
had filled up once again. Since her last week of hitting every possible event hadn’t
given her anything, she didn’t plan on trying again. But even with what she was expected
to cover, adding in job interviews would fill the gaps.

Maybe she wouldn’t be seeing Jimmy this week after all.

After her fabulous orgasm and then his texts, she felt relaxed. For a change, she
thought Jimmy was opening up, at least a little bit. She didn’t know what to make
of his excuse that he was afraid of screwing things up with her, but it was better
than where her mind had gone on its own.

Thinking of Jimmy made her horny all over again, so she blocked him from her thoughts.
She had work to think about. A cocktail reception at a college library tonight. She
owed one editor a couple of stories from her incredibly busy week last week, so she
sat down to churn out the words.

A paragraph in, her phone rang. Ryan. He pretty much only called these days when he
needed a sitter. She didn’t mind since he’d always done everything for everyone in
the family, but she almost missed the calls he used to make just to check on her.

She answered while still typing. “Hey, Ry. What night do you need a babysitter for?”

“Who said I needed a sitter?”

Her fingers froze on the keyboard. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to check on you.”

Shit. Colin and his big mouth. “I’m fine.”

“I talked with Liam last night.”

Liam? Liam never ratted her out. He’d always been the one brother she could count
on to treat her like a regular person.

“He mentioned that you’re going out with Jimmy O’Malley.”

Bullshit. She knew Liam never casually
mentioned
anything. “I am. So?”

“I like Jimmy, he’s decent guy, but that whole family is a little messed up. Are you
sure you want to get involved with him?”

“I’ve always liked Jimmy. He’s a good guy. What’s your problem?”

Ryan sighed. “Liam’s worried and asked me to talk to you. He seems bothered by the
idea of you and Jimmy dating.”

“Uh-uh. I talked to Liam yesterday, and he was totally okay with it. I mean, there
was the usual big brother crap you all spew out like robots, but that’s it. What are
you talking about?”

Nervous flutters churned in her stomach. Nothing ever bothered Liam. He was a live
and let live guy. He didn’t butt in to other people’s business. She sure as hell didn’t
understand why he’d go to Ryan instead of talking to her.

“Jimmy’s his friend. If things go south, he probably doesn’t want to have to choose
between his sister and his friend.”

“I wouldn’t make him do that. If it doesn’t work out, Jimmy and I would just avoid
each other. Liam wouldn’t be stuck in the middle.” She toyed with the pens on her
desk, lining them up like prison bars.

“Then maybe he knows something about Jimmy that you don’t and he figures you won’t
listen to him.”

This entire conversation made no sense. Why was she talking to Ryan if Liam had the
problem? “Thanks for checking on me. I’m fine. I’m having a great time with Jimmy,
and I’ll deal with Liam myself.”

“I’m pretty sure he wanted to avoid that.”

“Too bad.” She disconnected, but the irritation still flared in her chest. She was
used to Ryan coddling her. But not Liam. She couldn’t believe he’d gone behind her
back to Ryan like he was tattling on her.

At least the event tonight would put her near downtown, so she could go to the restaurant
and confront Liam at work. He’d be extra pissed because he hated to be interrupted
while cooking, but that was too damn bad. He was lucky she planned to wait until after
the dinner rush. And if the stars aligned for him, she might not make a scene.

Refocusing on the article on her computer, she pounded out paragraphs, fingers flying
over the keyboard. She was tired of O’Leary men trying to run her life. She was capable
of taking care of herself.

After a productive afternoon of writing, Moira stood and stretched. She poured herself
another cup of coffee and glanced over at the TV while considering popping in a yoga
DVD. Her body could use a good stretch, especially after sitting for so many hours.
She looked longingly at her mug of caffeine.

Which did she want more—the coffee or the relaxed muscles?