Dream Huntress (A Dreamseeker novel) (Entangled Ignite) (7 page)

“I’m fine. I can’t afford to be off anyway. Are you done?” she asked.

When he nodded, she picked up their plates and threw them away.

“What if I could get you a job at Antonio’s? His family has been good friends with mine for years. It’s a really nice place.” He tossed the leftover pizza on the kitchen counter and grabbed the dessert bag. “And now you know their food is awesome.”

So dinner had been a well-planned move to get her to quit Buck’s. She had to give him points for strategy and persistence. “Look, Ty, I know you don’t like Buck’s, but do you have any idea how much money I can make there in one evening? I start at four, and it’s pretty steady until about nine, and then it just completely opens up. On the weekends, I can walk away with a couple hundred dollars a night.”

“Yeah, but the place is a hole, and you know better than anyone it can be dangerous.”

“Only if I turn my back on Lewis.” She knew her lack of concern about the danger prickled under his skin. “Cheesecake now or later?”

She turned to look at him when he didn’t answer and got the distinct impression he had more to say on the subject of her employment but had apparently decided to drop it.

He moved the bakery box to the table, opened it, and served up the dessert. “Come here, you’ve got to try this.”

Guiding her into a chair, he pulled another one intimately close and sat. He scooped up a bite of cheesecake and fed it to her. “Tell me that’s not the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”

With her eyes closed and the slightest taste of heaven on her tongue, “hmm” was all she could manage. And not in a sweet, agreeable way, but in a low moan of delight.

“I told you so.” He chuckled and fed her another bite.

After she swallowed—and licked her lips—she said, “My mom made the best cheesecake. Thanksgiving meant pumpkin pie to everyone else, but my sister and I would beg for Mom’s cheesecake. God, it was good. I remember helping her make it. We’d try to shape the whipped cream on top into a pumpkin, in the spirit of pumpkin pie, you know. But we were artistically challenged.” She smiled. “Most years, we just ended up with an odd-looking smiley face. This is truly the best thing I’ve had since…”

…
her family’s last Thanksgiving together.

Words turned to ashes on her tongue. Stunned, she glanced at Ty. The hot sting in her eyes jolted her. Had she really just talked about her mom and sister? She never mentioned them. Not to anyone. Not ever. Images of their last morning together ignited and spread through her like a brush fire.

Ty dropped the fork and picked up her trembling hand, enveloping it in his large, warm grip. The icy claws of the flashback thawed when his fingers stroked her skin.

“You’re shaking.” His brows drew together. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I didn’t know. I mean, I never would have…”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s fine.” She pushed the words out, scrambling to shift into autopilot.
God
, she hated that her past could still grab hold of her like this. “The cheesecake
is
amazing.”

He moved a hand to her face, turning her head toward him. “I never meant to bring back bad memories or hurt you. I’m sorry.” He leaned in and touched his lips to the spot where a tear had streaked down her cheek.

The simple gesture, hauntingly intimate, undid her. Fighting the burn in her throat, she averted her face. She wanted to die. This man had been screwing with her emotions since the first moment she laid eyes on him. Why couldn’t he have let it go, pretended she hadn’t just made a fool of herself, the way any other man would have done?

“My mom and sister aren’t bad memories; it’s just hard sometimes.” She forced the words through the constricting pressure in her lungs. “I overreacted, so I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Framing her face in his hands, he tilted her head up, forcing their gazes to meet. “Don’t do that,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. I know what losing someone you love feels like.”

She looked into his eyes and couldn’t quite bring herself to look away. He did know. Somehow—he did know. Pain. Anger. Embarrassment. Raw emotions hung in the air like a dense fog, thick enough to suffocate in.

His lips brushed her forehead, then shifted and settled lightly against her mouth. The gentle, intimate connection stole her breath. Shaken by the fierce tightening in her body, she moaned.

At the soft sound, his grip tightened, and his lips grew more demanding. One of his hands dipped to the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair. His tongue edged into her mouth and stroked hers.

Confused, captivated, completely off balance—she was overwhelmed by sensations. There were good, solid reasons to stop, but this kiss was the nirvana she’d sought for twenty years, spurring a deep pull in her core that curbed the heartache and left behind something much more pleasurable in its wake.

Common sense waged a small battle. She needed to think. Needed to breathe. Needed to stop.

Just like everyone else—he’d already be gone if he knew your secrets.

Determined to step back, she lifted her hands to his face to push him away, but he turned his head and captured one of her fingers between his lips and sucked. The yearning flared hot and deep this time, driving a sharp, involuntary breath into her lungs.

Again, her thoughts spun. The desire to be taken, to be greedy and satisfy a need she’d denied for a long,
long
time exploded through whatever compartment she believed it safely locked in. A wicked tremble racked her body. Desire begged for her to open up just long enough to grab a screaming release.

But opening up is the worst kind of danger for someone whose world hinges on remaining closed.

His mouth captured hers again with long, languid strokes of his tongue mixed with short, ravaging licks. The hand he had splayed on her back slipped under her sweatshirt to stroke flesh. Panic filled her when his quick fingers slid to the front of her body, skimmed up her torso, and gently cupped her breast. But the alarm gave way as his fingers closed around her nipple, teasing and taunting. An uncontrolled groan of pleasure rose from her throat.

It had gone too far. She had to stop. “Ty…We need…I should—”

“Take the damned shirt off and come here? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

He yanked both shirts over her head and tugged her toward him.

In a moment of complete insanity, she straddled him. None of the material left between them could hide the erection pressing against her.

Ty groaned long and deep when she settled on his lap. He splayed his hands on her bare back. “Damn,” he whispered while taking in her breasts. “There’s just no part of you that isn’t gorgeous.” He leaned in and ravaged the tip of her bare breast with his lips.

This time, when she grabbed his face, there wasn’t a chance in hell it was to push him away. His tongue flicked, caressed, expertly drew from her nipple in a way that seared a heated path straight to her core. Her response was basic and all woman. The cop fell to the wayside.

Need won.

Dampness flowed from her body. She peeled off his shirt and let her hands explore and discover. Her fingertips traced the hard planes of his chest, sliding over smooth skin and a dusting of hair that covered firm muscle underneath. Quite simply, Ty was beautiful.

The next thought brought terror. Sheer blistering terror.

She wanted him.

And not in a way she could ever remember wanting any man before. She needed his hands on her and her clothes off. Needed to feel him, his body, his weight—not just his lips and chest, but every part of him driving inside her.

Pulling back, she sat, dazed.

“Let me take the edge off, baby.” He drew her closer, whispered in her ear. “Please.”

Taking advantage of her silence, he smoothed his fingers across the skin low on her stomach, brushing them inside the waistband of her shorts. Fingering the rhinestone on her navel, he said, “What do you like, Jordan?”

The gravel in his voice scraped across her skin, raising a fine layer of goose bumps. Her thoughts spun out in all kinds of crazy directions, but she couldn’t have put two words together to save her soul.

His hand slid lower and cupped her. Her breath caught. He didn’t move, just allowed the heat of his hand to sear her. The man was a sadist; it was torture to have his fingers so close to where she needed to feel them.
God
, did he want her to beg? She started to pant. When she did, she felt his smile against her neck.

And then he moved.

He stroked her, just the faintest, slightest touch of his finger, and she jerked as if she’d been shot. God, it had been a long time. Way too long if one slight touch sent her nerve endings into spasms.

“Jordan.” Her name rolled from his tongue with a low, male groan. Twisting his free hand in her hair, he tugged her head back, devouring her throat with lips and tongue and teeth.

She couldn’t think. Not when he crushed his mouth to hers and slid one skilled finger into her while gently stroking his thumb over her swollen mound.

“Ty.” Her gasp for air turned hitching and jagged. She couldn’t remember how to breathe. “Ty, God, ah…” He was using her body against her, sliding his fingers over…in…out…

Her body shattered, convulsed. She drew him tighter, scrambling for something solid to cling to. Her breath heaved as if she’d just crossed a finish line. But they weren’t done. She knew in her heart, knew from his low, throaty growl, they weren’t done.

“Christ, I want you.” He stood and crushed her body between his and the wall, cupped her bottom, and lifted her.

Her legs reflexively circled his hips. He felt so good. So solid. So strong.

An unwelcome notion sat somewhere in a dark corner in her mind—
this is wrong
. She was here on an investigation and had crossed a line. It was professional suicide. And if the orgasm he’d shot her to in less than a minute was any indication, she suspected he was capable of knocking her private world completely off its axis, too.

Ty stumbled his way into her bedroom and fell on the bed while tugging at the tiny cotton shorts she was wearing. They were the only thing standing between her and the biggest mistake of her life, and even so, as he eased them down her legs, she didn’t stop him.

Her phone rang somewhere in the background. The answering machine kicked on.

“Jordan, it’s Bahan. Come on, pick up. Why aren’t you answering your cell? I’m sorry I missed your call, but I got your email.”

Reality snapped back with a big, ugly, ferocious bite. She opened her eyes and popped up on an elbow. Ty’s fingers smoothed along the inside of her thigh—and, oh man—she wanted those very talented fingers doing exactly what they’d done to her only moments ago.

“I need specifics on that info you wanted.” Bahan’s voice echoed through the room again.

She leaped, fumbled in the dark room, and turned on the light next to the bed. Fumbling again, she grabbed the phone.

“Hi, Ted, it’s me.” Turning to Ty, she held up a finger as she stood, then pulled a blanket from the bed and walked to the other room.

She cut Bahan short, telling him she’d be in touch tomorrow. But the brief conversation was enough to clear the fog and let her normal, rational thinking spring to life. Not once since she’d had her badge could she remember being this impulsive or reckless.

She took a deep breath, prepared to go back into the bedroom and send him home.

By the time she returned, Ty sat on the edge of her bed. She sat next to him, but he didn’t look at her.

“Not a good sign when another man is on your recorder sounding so desperate to speak to you.”

“Hey.” She turned his head toward her. The brooding gray of his eyes pulled at something inside her. No one had ever scrambled her senses like this man. “Ted’s an old friend. He’s helping me with”—she stumbled all the way—“a project at college. I’m not involved with him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

A small smile lit his face.

“I’m not involved with anyone, because I don’t get involved. Ever. I’m sorry I led you to believe otherwise tonight.”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you don’t get involved ever? No one has that kind of restraint, baby.”

She shrugged. “I do. I have very little free time, and I just find it easier this way. No expectations or obligations. No disappointment.” She looked at him, but he didn’t appear convinced. “I’m sorry I let things get out of control. I don’t know what happened.”

His handsome face morphed into an evil grin. “I think we just happened. Almost. I won’t push you, but you can’t live like a nun just because you’re busy.” He slid a hand up her cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

She backed away, not at all sure she could stop if things started again. She couldn’t use him, not like that. If he turned out to be a dirty ex-cop, she couldn’t stand the thought of being this attracted to him. If he turned out to be a good guy, she didn’t want to hurt him that way, either. “Look, relationships are complicated. I prefer my life simple. Finding Mr. Right isn’t a priority.”

“I suppose I’d lose points quickly if I told you I’d be happy being Mr. Wrong?”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Are you offering to be my booty call?”

“If that’s what it takes. I could live with that. For now.”

She could damned well live with that, too.

But instead she thought about Arlo Buck and his greedy ambition to make a dollar at the expense of children. She had a job to do and couldn’t afford a distraction. She’d made a life, albeit a solitary one because of the dreams, but it was a life that had meaning now.

Why would she ever risk it for a man? Why risk having him turn her world upside down and then walk out when the truth surfaced?

Her life wasn’t perfect, but it worked.

“How about just a friend?” She got up to put some space between them, went to her closet, came back, and handed him the shirt she’d borrowed the night before. “I washed it today. I think all the blood came out.”

She walked him to the front door. In one quick maneuver, he kissed her, slid his hands down to her butt, and pulled her against him. Her breath hitched, and her thoughts scrambled. The lust he could ignite in a few short seconds teetered on baffling.