Hidden Gems (10 page)

“In me,” she said. Gasping, grabbing.

“Shh.” Jamie framed her face, gentling her with his steadiness. She welcomed his weight as he sank partway onto her. And into her. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes. He was looking straight at her. No awkwardness, no hesitation. Warmth and wonder in his expression, caring in his touch.

The truth smacked her. She was the one who felt unsure, especially about this…this feeling of—

Her lids slammed shut. Her body clamped on his. “Ride me.”

A groan tore loose from Jamie’s throat as he finally surrendered. He pushed all the way inside her, hot steel and pulsing flesh, sweet glide and delicious friction, filling her with more than his body even though she tried not to think about what that meant.

But her body had another agenda. She opened to him. Yielded. Accepted.

He was deep. So deep.

She shuddered with her palms on his firm butt and her legs splayed, keeping him right there, unmoving as her eyes rolled back in her head and her mind expanded to absorb the reality of being Jamie’s lover.

“Marissa,” he said into her neck. Prayerfully.

She breathed his name. “Jamie.”

His head bumped her chin. She sank a hand into his thick curly hair as he dipped lower. His tongue was a warm, wet lash on her skin, lapping hard at her nipples until she had no choice but to take the next step in their dance.

First her shoulders swayed, then her hips. He rocked into her, not quite thrusting, but moving just enough so that she felt him throbbing inside her. A delicious sensation. She hooked a leg around him and arched her back, lifting her breasts into the wet heat of his mouth. Passion rushed her veins and her nerve endings swelled and tingled, making her skin so sensitive it was almost painful.

He released her breast, found her mouth, filled it with his tongue. She tightened on him and he reared back, his face turning fierce as he thrust and thrust again, giving her all of himself. And then he was whispering to her, a chain of exciting, forbidden words—how hot she was, how wet, how tight—all of it leading her deeper into uncharted territory.

She shook, on the verge of coming apart. Jamie knew what she needed. He hugged her as he pulled out, so slowly it was excruciating, then tightened his hold even more when he drove back in. A scintillating pleasure broke inside her and then she really was coming, but not apart.

She was consummate. She was whole. And Jamie was right there with her.

A pressure built behind her lids, at the back of her throat. She held it at bay, sinking her nails into his shoulders as he pumped hard and fast. A deep warmth blossomed from the point of their coupling, washing over her in a swirling wave. She gave in to it, losing herself in the rush and movement and pleasure, losing herself in the moment that felt as though it should never end.

Jamie slipped out of her. Not wanting to let go, she twined him in her legs and arms. He rested on his elbows, his hands in her hair, kissing her face, his tongue tickling as he licked away the tears that had spilled from her eyes without her realizing it.

“That was hot,” she said.

He wouldn’t let her diminish the act. “That was beautiful.”

She pushed her face into the crook of his arm. “It was.”

“Still is,” he said, kissing her and softly rubbing his face against her cheek, making her think of the cat.

She lifted her head. “Was Harry under the bed all this time? He must be traumatized.” Even though their pets were familiar with each other, the cat had fled for safety as soon as she’d released him inside the door to the apartment.

“Nope.” Jamie gestured with his head. “Look over there.”

The room was only dimly lit, but Harry was visible, a pale shape ensconced on the easy chair opposite their sofa bed. “Wow,” Marissa said. “He let us be? You’re lucky you don’t have cat scratches up and down your back.”

“Who says I don’t?”

She checked her polished nails. “Gosh. Did I hurt you?”

“Not a bit.”

She stroked his shoulder and felt him flinch. “Battle wounds.”

“Do I get a Purple Heart?”

“Let’s hope not.” Better to skim away from that area, which could easily digress to hearts and flowers when she—he—was feeling so sated. “It must be the different apartment.”

“What?”

“Harry. Usually, if I’m with a guy, in a romantic situation, Harry lets his displeasure be known.”

“Is that why you rarely bring men home?”

So he’d noticed that. She’d always told herself that she liked her privacy and that was why she kept her home life separate from her sex life. But at least some of her reticence to share herself with even the long-term boyfriends was because she didn’t want to involve either Harry or, she must admit, Jamie.

She summoned a humorous tone. “I’m careful about who I introduce Harry to, that’s all.” Jamie had met anyone who lasted long enough to be called a boyfriend. He was scrupulously friendly to them, too, even though she could tell that he wasn’t ever entirely approving. Not unlike Harry.

She gave Jamie’s back a pat, enjoying these moments of slightly sticky closeness a little too much regardless of the way he was making her reevaluate. “I need to wash up, but I’m too lazy to move.”

“Me, too,” he said, but a minute later he got out of bed, pajamas in hand, and disappeared into the bathroom. Soon he returned with a damp washcloth and a towel. The dog was on his heels.

“What’s this?” she asked, flicking on a second sofa lamp.

He blinked at the sudden light, then smiled, making no explanation other than, “I know you.”

She knew him, too. He’d often teased her about her propensity for meticulous grooming. From work to workout to bed, she sometimes took three showers a day. After sex, she was the one to bolt for the bathroom, and often even zoom out of the man’s apartment with excuses about having to get up early for work. Paul had liked that about her. He’d said she thought like a man, which he considered a compliment. Maybe she had also…at the time.

She scoffed at herself. As if “the time” had been so long ago.

But maybe it was. Some days, even hours, meant more than others.

She reached for the washcloth, but Jamie demurred. “It’s late. Early, I mean. You’re tired. Let me.”

She was sleepy. That was why she gave in, lying back and letting him take care of her. He started with her arms, sliding the damp cloth along them and then over to her breasts. He washed her there with careful attention. She propped up her heavy lids, needing to watch his face for…for…

She didn’t know what. How could she be suspicious of his thoughtfulness?

He remained efficient. Careful, gentle, but not lascivious, even when he lifted her legs, swiping the warm wet cloth across her inner thighs, then between them. A frisson went through her.

He was applying the towel, drying her off. His concentration was almost total, only the dark glint in his eyes hinting at the intimacy of his actions.

“That feels good.” She sat up and unfolded the T-shirt, slipping it over her head while he straightened the sheets and blanket, even plumped her pillow.

She snuggled in. He switched off the lights, climbing in beside her. He was reaching for her when a heavy weight thumped onto the bed. Sally plopped her big furry body between them. Her tail waved hopefully.

“Hello.” Marissa stroked the retriever’s velvety head.

“She usually sleeps with me,” Jamie confessed.

“Does that make me the other woman?”

He settled back, one arm propped behind his head. He fingered Sally’s ear. “The other female, maybe.”

“Sally will share, won’t you, girl?”

The dog’s tail thumped the blanket. She was in bliss, with both of them stroking behind her ears, scratching her chin, rubbing under her collar to the ruff of silky golden hair.

“Double petting session,” Jamie said. “What a treat.”

“We shouldn’t be the only ones enjoying ourselves tonight.”

“Sweet baby girl,” he crooned.

For half a second, Marissa thought he meant her. But he was talking to the dog, working her into soporific ecstasy with his attentions.

Marissa’s fingers stilled on the dog’s ruff. Her eyes closed. She drifted. Eventually her hand fell away. She tried to rouse herself when the dog nudged at her, but Jamie scolded, “Sally. Go to sleep.”

The dog rose and went to the foot of the bed, turning in circles before settling at their feet.

She reached for Jamie with her face until she found his lips. His breath was sweet with toothpaste, and that made her smile. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Being there for me.”

“Where?” He nudged her with his hips. “Here?”

“Are you trying to wake me up?”

“Ah, no. Unless you really can’t sleep…”

“Umm.” She loved being close to him this way, and felt comforted that they hadn’t lost the easy give and take of their friendship. Her feelings were, as he’d said, enhanced. Perhaps there was a small niggling doubt that threatened to bloom into misgivings, but for now she was too lethargic to give it space to grow.

He petted her hip. “Are you still worrying about the burglary?”

“Not so much. But I suppose it is buzzing at the back of my mind.”

“It’ll be okay. I’ll help you get everything straightened up, we’ll go to the police station, and the hardware store, and I’ll install window grates….”

“Oh, joy. I don’t do well in captivity.”

“Think of it as keeping out the crazies.”

She was drifting away again. “Mmm-hmm.”

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”

She believed him. The last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep was the sensation of Jamie kissing her forehead.

A SHRILL, DEMANDING noise woke Marissa. She groaned and tried to bury her ears in the pillow. No go. The ringing sound wouldn’t quit.

She cranked up her head and squinted at the light coming through the windows, then blearily focused on the clock. After 10:00 A.M.

The first day of the rest of her life, so to speak. Her new life as Jamie’s—what? Was she now officially his girlfriend?

She knew without a doubt that he’d say so. She, however, wasn’t so sure now that the sun, like her defenses, was up.

The persistent noise wasn’t Jamie’s alarm. It was her cell phone.

She sat up, vaguely remembering Jamie taking the dog out at some point, but he’d come back to bed and was a lump beside her. Sally, too, squeezed in with her big body stretched lengthwise alongside his.

“Answer it,” the bigger lump said.

Her bag was at the side of the bed. She pulled out the phone, checked the display, but didn’t recognize the number. Manhattan area code. “Hullo?”

“Miss Suarez, this is Sergeant O’Connor of the NYPD.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She pushed her hair out of her face, rubbed her eyes. She was never good at tiptoeing through delicate morning-after situations, so she latched onto the call as a handy excuse. “You want me to come in, do the mug shot thing?”

“That may not be necessary,” the cop said, and she could tell by the tone in his voice that he was about to tell her something bad.

Jamie sat up. Sally rolled onto her back with her legs splayed, expecting a belly scratch. “What is it?”

Marissa stopped formulating rationalizations in her mind and concentrated on the telephone call. She held up a finger, shushing Jamie while O’Connor spoke to her. She sputtered out a few questions, but he could give her no real answers, not yet.

With numb fingers, she snapped the phone shut. Being with Jamie had given her a sense of security, but now she saw that she’d only pulled him into a dangerous situation they had no solution for.

“Marissa. Tell me,” Jamie commanded with a sense of urgency she’d never heard from him before the past few days.

Her lips had no feeling, but she heard her voice speaking through them. “That was one of the cops from last night. O’Connor. They may have found my burglar.”

“That was fast.” Jamie thrust a hand through his rumpled hair. “But what’s wrong?”

“Well. They want me to come in right away.”

“For a lineup?”

“No, a corpse-up.” That was a sick thing to say. Was she losing it?

Her eyes darted around a room that suddenly seemed unfamiliar. The Kurt Cobain poster on the back of the door had a torn corner. She’d dog-eared half the books stacked by the armchair, but now they wore strange covers and titles. She could have sworn she’d never seen the guitar in the corner before, even though Jamie had once played “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” at the bottom of her fire escape when she’d fumbled a big case at work. Her skin was twitchy. Her tongue felt rough. Even the air she breathed tasted wrong.

She didn’t want to look at Jamie, in case he was no longer recognizable either.

Had she made another of her gigantic mistakes?

She swallowed. “I guess I have to go to the morgue, to see if I can identify…” Her teeth clicked together and she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. The break-in had been bad, but now the situation had become deadly serious, on top of infernally complicated. “To identify the body.”