Impulsive (4 page)

“What the hell is this?”

She grabbed the cloth and threw it somewhere behind her. “Forget that.”

He obeyed. Hell, he'd do anything if it meant she'd keep raking those fingernails up and down his sides and across his stomach. Even through his cotton shirt, he felt the bite. To encourage her to continue, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor. That left little clothing between them and what was there was easy to remove.

As his mouth toured the line under her chin, his hands tugged her shirt out of her shorts and pulled it up and over her head. Warm skin greeted his fingertips. The more he caressed, the hotter she turned. Lips against lips and hands skimming, they touched everywhere it was possible to touch without his climbing all over her. But he planned on doing just that.

Their bodies separated long enough for her to find the buttons of his shirt and him to work on the snap to her shorts. No bed, no finesse, just a raging need that nearly ripped the cotton in his rush to get her out of her clothes.

As soon as the shorts hit the floor, he hooked his palm under her knee and lifted her left thigh until it rested against his hip. With her legs open, he could slip his fingers under her and rub against the crotch of her panties. Just like last time, a wetness greeted him after only a few teasing strokes.

Her head fell back to give him free access to her neck, but her hands kept moving. She wrapped her arms around his waist and let her palms fall down to cup his ass. The position slid his erection against her. They fit together so damn well. It only took a few seconds for her hips to rock back and forth in a rhythm that thumped in his brain.

She deserved something better than a quick hump on a butcher-block island, but he didn't have the control to take her anywhere else. Hell, he wasn't even sure he could slow down long enough to drop his pants to the floor.

Just then her fingers slipped around to his belt. A few tugs and she had it undone and his fly hanging open. “This feels familiar.”

He thought about answering her, but she seemed to be talking more to the room than to him. And with her hand in his underwear and air crashing through his lungs, a conversation wasn't exactly the first thing on his mind.

She jumped up on the counter behind her and shimmied out of her bikini bottoms with a swiftness that won his immediate approval. “Condom?”

“Huh?” Damn, the woman had him panting and mumbling like a moron.

She opened her legs and pulled him closer. Before he could reach down and help, she had his erection in her palm and was pumping him into a state of complete stupidity. “You were prepared last time.”

“Yeah, right. I have one,” he said, not knowing how he got the words out over the moan aching to escape his throat.

“You just one of those guys who always has one ready?”

“Not even close.” When she shot him a give-me-a-break look, he tried to explain. Hard to do when all he wanted was to be inside her, but he gave it a shot. “A friend gave me one as a joke before the wedding.”

She reached around with her open hand and lifted his wallet out of his back pocket. “And this time?”

Eric grabbed the leather and fumbled with the folds until the small packet popped out. Not the smoothest he'd ever been, but he'd worry about his pathetic moves later. “Call it wishful thinking.”

“I prefer to think of you as prepared.”

“Whatever. Just roll that on and get moving.” When she frowned at him, he inhaled a few times to slow the blood racing through him and straight to his dick. “Sorry.”

She chuckled. “You're forgiven this time.”

He couldn't remember her being this chatty at the wedding…ahh, but he did remember that. “Your hand feels so good on me.”

She slid her palm up and down, using just the right amount of pressure, sliding her thumb over his tip until he jerked in response. “I like a man who plays as hard as he works.”

Her words tumbled over him but didn't process. He was too busy taking advantage of her position. Spread out in front of him, she provided quite the temptation. One he did not fight.

His fingers rubbed against her, each circle making her internal muscles pulse and strain. When he finally slid his finger inside, she let out a long sigh.

“Like that?” he asked.

She rolled the condom over him. “You can't tell?”

No, the breathy tone said all he needed to know. So did her slick wetness under his fingertips.

As gently as possible, with his hand shaking, he lifted her hand away from his cock and took over. He pressed the tip against her, brushed it back and forth until her thighs tensed against his hips.

Her head fell forward and her warm breath licked across his cheek. She smelled like fresh pastries and cinnamon. “Now, Eric.”

“Almost.”

When she grabbed his butt and pulled him even closer, he guessed she didn't like his answer. Couldn't blame her. His heart pumped fast enough to knock him over. Rather than risk a heart attack, he pushed forward until he fit fully inside her.

“God, yes.” She bit down on his ear.

There was no stopping now. No way to pull back or go slow. The lower half of his body was running this show.

Her hands traveled over him as her mouth settled on top of his. Lean legs wrapped around his waist. Fingers plowed through his hair. She branded him with every part of her body. She didn't hold back as she coaxed him into a faster cadence.

He fought for breath as his hips flexed, bringing his body in and out of hers in time with the pounding in his chest. Kissing, plunging, it all circled around him until the spring inside him coiled into a tight ball.

And he wasn't alone.

Katie's fingernails dug into his shoulders, pinching his skin and pushing him to that line between pain and pleasure. Her butt lifted off the counter and her thighs squeezed his middle while every muscle inside her tightened. With her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his as her breaths puffed out.

He caressed her nipples through the silky material of her bra. Touching her, feeling her body pulse around him, took him right to the edge. But he held back, forcing his lower half to slow down to make the wave last as long as possible.

He didn't have to wait long. Her body bucked and stiffened. The orgasm ripped through her just as his touched off. Churning, panting, he drove into her one final time. The tension peaked right before the straining broke loose. He came in a rush, every cell screaming as his body slumped against hers.

Seconds or minutes—he didn't know which—passed before he felt the scratch of her fingernails up his bare back. Her limbs relaxed and her lips moved against his throat.

“You still sorry?” She mumbled the question against his damp skin.

After one last inhale of the floral scent of her shampoo, he lifted his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“You going to run away again?”

He'd already been gone from work longer than expected. “Well, no. Not like you think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her voice sounded like he'd better be.

“Look, I don't want to get accused of the ‘ass on fire' thing again, but I do have to get back to the office.” He glanced around. Saw their clothes thrown on the floor and a stack of dishes in the sink. “But I'll help out here first.”

“Uh-huh.”

When he looked into her eyes again, he met with a piercing stare. “What?”

She shoved against his shoulders, separating them and pulling back as far as the counter would allow. “Nothing.”

All the heat seeped out of the room. The sudden chill had him reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “I'm thinking I messed up again.”

She tugged on the edge of her T-shirt, as if trying to hide from him. “Aren't you the clever one?”

“I rarely get out of the office before seven.”

Conflicting emotions raced across her face. Distrust and hope. She watched him as if assessing and deciphering his motives.

“I can have my assistant call you if you need verification.” He smiled, hoping to bring some lightness back into the room. “Have her write it down and notarize it for you.”

“Can she fax it?” Katie blew her serious tone by bursting into laughter right after. She waved her hands in front of her face. “Kidding. I'll trust you on this one.”

Relief flooded through him at her sudden change in mood. He had come to apologize and get a sense of whether she planned to use their time at the wedding as an opportunity to nail his reputation. He sure hadn't expected a second round or how good it would feel.

“I'll help you clean up around here before I head out.” He pulled up his pants first because washing dishes in his underwear didn't sound like much fun.

She shrugged. “No need.”

He ignored her and walked over to the sink. Once his belt was back in place, he reached for the faucet. “Wash or dry?”

“You are a constant surprise, counselor.”

He threw a dry towel at her, impressed when she snagged it out of midair without even looking at it. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

C
ara balanced Ashleigh on one hip as she walked around the kitchen of the two-bedroom apartment in her ratty bathrobe the next morning. “About time you got up.”

Katie glanced at the wall clock. “It's not even seven o'clock.”

“Your cell phone has been ringing all morning.”

“It has?”

“Nonstop.”

She glanced at the number and immediately decided not to answer. “Is that why you're so grumpy?”

“Ash was up three times last night. I've slept a total of six minutes, and I have to give a presentation for a prospective wedding today.”

“And if you keep walking in circles, Ash is going to throw up.” Katie stepped in front of Cara and held out her hands, wiggling her fingers until Ashleigh bubbled with laughter. “Give the pretty girl to me.”

“I don't know how I'm going to handle this day.” Cara brushed her bangs from her eyes.

“You will. You always do.” Katie wrapped her arm around her niece and made faces until Ashleigh let out a stream of giggles that made even her grumpy mother smile. “But first you're going to shower because you look like hell.”

With a skill refined by mothers throughout time, Cara joined in the face-making, keeping all of her attention centered on her baby while she held onto the thread of the adult conversation. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

“I'm here for ya. Ash is going to watch me while I eat and read the paper.” Katie gave Ashleigh a kiss but it was only a pretext so she could inhale her baby powder little girl smell. “That sounds like fun, doesn't it, baby girl?”

Cara lit up at the sound of her daughter's laughter. “You're good with her.”

“Because she looks like me.”

Cara snorted. “No, she doesn't.”

She didn't. Not one bit, but Katie covered Ashleigh's ears in mock horror anyway. “How dare you?”

The shine behind Cara's smile faded a bit. “I wish she did.”

Bill. Damn him
. Katie could tell Cara was thinking about her no-good, run-for-the-hills ex. The guy had cut out before Ashleigh was even born. Abandoned his wife and child without a thought. The anger-fueled memories flashed through Katie's mind. Cara alone in the hospital. Cara alone as she applied for benefits to make sure Ashleigh had somewhere to live. Cara alone as she walked into that attorney's office and dumped the dumb bastard.

More than once Katie wanted to hunt the weasel down, drag him back home, and beat him with a frying pan. It wouldn't do Cara or Ashleigh any good, but the revenge would be sweet. Making him face his past, rubbing his nose in his failure by forcing him to witness the awesome woman Cara had become, appealed to Katie. Letting Bill see that his idiocy had changed all of them, including her.

Katie often wondered where she would be if Bill had stuck around. It was Cara's begging call for help when she was six months pregnant that had scared Katie straight. She knew that, but refused to give Bill any credit for the transformation. All her gratitude went to Cara and Ashleigh.

“Don't do that. Don't think of him unless you're fantasizing about castrating him with a melon baller,” Katie said.

Cara waved off the sisterly concern. “I don't regret it.”

That's not exactly where Katie wanted Cara's thinking to go. “Oh, don't get me wrong. You should definitely regret Bill. Just don't kick yourself too hard. He seemed like a catch at first. Who knew he'd lose his job and fall in love with beer and the women who served it so soon after you got married?”

“I've learned.”

“We all have.” But had she? Katie thought about the kitchen sex with Eric the night before and wondered how far she'd really come.

Then her phone buzzed again with another text. As if she needed an additional reminder of Eric and why they'd met. Obviously, her job contact wanted attention.

She kept telling herself the stalking of Eric was over. She'd followed him around the wedding, watched him, and reported back on what he did. Well, most of what he did. The rest was off the books. As far as she could tell, the guy was clean and avoided any secret meetings with his ex. At least Katie sure hoped that was true.

The phone went silent, but it started again two seconds later. Same number. Same text message—Call Me.

Jimmy Blau was not going to leave her alone.

 

Eric hoped the third time would work. The first two meetings had gone very well in the sex department. He needed this one to go well in the conversation department. He'd settle for mediocre so long as he got the right words out and managed to leave again without her strangling him.

Sure, he could have used the time doing dishes the night before as a way to talk with Katie about his political image and the impact questions about his morality might have on it. But when he was with her, his mind strayed to other topics. He didn't want to think about obligations and his office. He wanted to laugh and have sex and keep everything light. The rest of his life centered on crime and fund-raisers. Fun was just not one of those things he got enough of lately, and he didn't want to spoil the moment when it came along.

But he was a big boy and adults had to do shitty things sometimes. He glanced down at the two takeout coffee cups in his hands. Maybe caffeine would soften the blow, make him seem like less of a dick as they handled this touchy subject.

Balancing one cup in the crook of his elbow, he knocked on the security screen to the catering kitchen. The main door was open and he could see movement inside, which meant she had to be there. Thursday at four might not be the best time for this sort of thing, but he doubted there would ever be a perfect time.

Before he could call out a greeting, a face appeared on the other side of the mesh. “Can I help you?”

He had no idea who this lady was or how she fit in with the business. “I'm here to see Katie.”

“Katie Long?”

Hell, he could see the woman's scowl through the screen. “Yeah, Katie.”

The woman didn't say anything.

“Is this a bad time?” Eric asked, thinking it couldn't possibly be a good time. Nothing good came out of a facial expression like that.

“Come in.” She went from comatose to rushing to get the door open and motion him inside.

This was not exactly the neighborhood where women should welcome strange men inside, daytime or not. To prevent any confusion or being hit with a baseball bat, he held out his free hand and switched to charm mode. “I'm Eric Kimura.”

“I know.” And she didn't sound too happy about that fact, either.

He would never get used to that part of his job. “You recognize me from the newspapers?”

She dropped his hand and started wringing her towel between her fingers with enough force to turn the tips blue. “Of course. You're in them all the time.”

“Not by choice, I assure you.”

It was an unfortunate side effect of his work. He'd prefer to keep to his office and the courtroom, but a string of high-profile cases had him out in front of the cameras all too often. Then when the current prosecuting attorney and Eric's boss, Frank Yashita, announced his intention to leave for a position with the Department of Justice in Washington, D.C., the race to replace him was on. As the obvious successor and interim boss, Eric had not had two seconds of peace since.

She glanced down at the drinks in his hand. “I don't understand why you're here.”

Not the warmest welcome he'd ever gotten from a woman, but he'd had worse. “I'm here to see Katie.”

“What did she do?”

His mouth curved down before he could stop it. “Excuse me?”

“She promised me this was over.”

Hands on hips, nostrils flaring—yeah, this woman was pissed. Eric had no idea how introducing himself had caused that reaction. Instead of running the risk of further ticking her off, he went ahead nice and slow. “Okay.”

The woman waved her hand in the air. “No more police.”

“I'm not the police.” But he sure as hell was intrigued. A little concerned, too. When he talked with Katie about everything else, he'd ask about that.

“She's been working so hard. She takes such good care of Ashleigh.”

Damn, did Katie have a kid
? “Who is Ashleigh?”

“My daughter.”

His stomach stopped dropping. “And you are?”

“Her sister.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I'm Cara Long.”

He saw it now. Darker hair but the same shocking blue to her eyes. A little older with a bit less of a wild child look about her, but definitely related.

“You need to just tell me,” Cara said and then held onto the counter behind her as if it were the only thing keeping her up.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Eric?”

Finally
. “Katie?”

He spun around and watched her walk through the unlocked door behind him. She balanced two bags of groceries in her arms and looked about as thrilled to see him as she would have been to be told she had the plague.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

So far he was zero-for-two in the ladies department. “I came to see you.”

Katie glanced at her sister and then right back to him. “Did you run the whole way?”

It was official. He couldn't follow either of the Long women's conversations. “I'm sorry, what?”

“You seem mighty thirsty.”

“What?” Great, now she had
him
repeating the stupid word every time he opened his mouth.

She nodded in the general direction of his hands. “The drinks?”

“Oh.” Once again, she stepped in front of him and his brain hiccupped. To keep from dousing his shirt with scalding hot coffee or worse, he set the cups down and took the bags out of her hands. “Where do these go?”

“Counter.” Katie followed him and dropped her keys beside his hand. “Shouldn't you be at work?”

Cara kept right on staring, looking both stunned and annoyed. “You two know each other?”

“Yes.” Katie picked up the cup then hid her mouth behind it, but Eric saw her smile.

Cara didn't let it go. She stood in front of her sister, her attention never wavering. “Professionally?”

Katie sighed. “Of course not.”

“For the record, I don't know what that means,” Eric said, now dreading his future conversation with Katie.

“Stop being so dramatic, Cara.” Katie took a long sip of coffee. “And negative. We met at Deana and Josh's wedding.”

If anything, Cara's frown deepened. “I see.”

Eric waited for the pinprick of pain that always followed the mention of Deana's name, but the stab didn't come. This time it was more of a dull ache. His current high level of confusion somehow must have blocked the majority of the blow. And since the sisters were engaged in some sort of showdown he didn't understand, he stayed quiet.

Katie shot her sister a this-conversation-is-over glare before turning back to him. “No crime today?”

He shook his head and played along. “None.”

“Good job. Maybe I will vote for you.”

He treated her to a formal bow. “My campaign manager will be thrilled to hear that.”

Katie smiled. “Do you bring all potential voters coffee?”

“I don't make enough money for that.”

“Then why are you here?” Cara asked for what felt like the fifteenth time.

“Cara!”

“To see your sister.” His answer hadn't changed but he was starting to wonder if it should.

“And you knew where to find her?”

Since the game of Twenty Annoying Questions hadn't ended, Eric decided to help it along. “Should I step out for a few minutes while you two settle whatever it is you need to discuss?”

Cara nodded. “Yes.”

“No.” Katie didn't look at him, but she held up her hand to get him to stop. Never mind the fact he hadn't moved. “Don't you have to pick up Ashleigh from the babysitter?”

The reminder had Cara glancing at the clock on the wall. “Damn.”

“I'll explain everything later.” When Cara didn't move, Katie put a hand on her shoulder. “It's fine. I promise.”

After a beat of silence, Cara stripped off her apron and grabbed her purse. “It was nice meeting you.”

He knew she didn't mean that but played along. “You, too.”

“You—” Cara pointed at Katie—“I'll see at home.”