Long for Me (2 page)

He didn’t
—

Chris started to laugh.

Dean shot her a grin, his dark eyes twinkling at her.

“What?” Jensen demanded.

“He came inside with this big roll of duct tape. I was there with these jeans, my boxers showing about three inches above them. I’d bought them with my own money, you see. I figured if I bought them with my own money, I could wear them however I saw fit.”

Chris laughed harder.

Tate covered his eyes with one hand.

Jensen started to giggle.

“My dad looked over at me while I was finishing up my breakfast and he said to me, ‘
Son. I’m going to give you a choice. You will either go put on a belt or I’m going to
make
you a belt
.’ I told him I couldn’t find it. He wasn’t really going to duct tape those damn jeans to my ass. I was sure of it.” Dean sighed, slumping back in the seat. “But he did it, and two of my older brothers were at the table, laughing the whole damn time. They’d tried to do the same thing, you see. And those
assholes
hadn’t seen fit to tell me how Dad would react.”

“So you changed after that?”

Dean gave Jensen a long, quiet look, then he sighed. “Baby, you haven’t met my dad yet. The whole point of it was to make sure I
got
the point. He’d waited until I had no time. The bus was due in five minutes. I barely had time to brush my teeth.” He shrugged. “I peeled the duct tape off on the bus, which he knew I’d do. But I gave those damn jeans away and never tried to buy another pair, I can tell you that.”

“How much skin did you lose with the tape?” Chris asked, the question popping out of her without her even realizing she was thinking it.

He blinked and then he started to chuckle. “A bit.”

Laughing, she rested her head against Guy’s arm.

Her headache had faded, she realized.

He turned his face into her hair and she sighed. If she could just stay like this, the noise in her head might stay quiet a little longer.

* * *

“Come on, Tink.”

In response, Chris just sighed and turned her head away from him, burrowing deeper into the seat.

Deputy Guy Miller closed his eyes and tried to mentally prepare himself.

He could do this.

He had done it before, after all.

Blowing out a breath, he reached over and unerringly freed the catch on the seat belt. As he climbed out of the car and circled around, he braced himself. Chris was tired. Chris hadn’t just had a rough
day
—the past few weeks had been hell and he needed to be there for her.

All he was doing was taking her inside, putting her to bed.

Just being friendly.

Yeah, because that was how she wanted things.

That was how she’d decided things would be between them, just a couple of years ago.

Friendly. That was
exactly
how he felt. Friendly.

Lust and love twisted inside him. Just lifting her into his arms made his dick ache. Of course, he’d been a fucking disaster all day, ever since he’d slid onto that hard bench at church, seen the red dress she’d worn. No black for Chris. Her mother had loved color, so Chris had given her color. A brilliant spray of red roses and white lilies had stood between two of the pictures and he already knew who had designed that arrangement, and Chris had worn a dress the same shade of red as those roses, a deep, dark red that had glowed against her skin and she’d left her arms bare so the tattoos had been on display.

More roses.

Roses that climbed up her arms and trailed down her back.

Once, he’d stripped that delicate body naked and learned each curve, each bloom of ink, and tasted that soft flesh.

One weekend, frozen in time.

But now, he was just a friend.

Settling her against his chest, he paused, gave himself a minute to rub his cheek against the softness of her hair.

Just a friend, maybe.

Even if everything he felt inside was so much more.

“Chris, baby,” he murmured.

She hummed in her throat and snuggled against him.

Sighing, he shifted around and managed to kick the door to his car shut. He relished the soft feel of her in his arms as he carried her to the back door, using his key to unlock the door.

“You’re good at this.”

He stilled at the sound of her voice.

A low
beep beep beep
came to his ears and he scowled, moving inside and using his shoulder to bump her door shut. The alarm system he’d nagged her into buying had a key fob, but he’d forgotten about it. Disarming the alarm, he looked down at the pale circle of her face. “How long have you been awake?” he asked softly.

“Somewhere between the car and here.” She wiggled against him but he pretended not to notice as he carried her into the kitchen.

If she was awake, he was going to make sure she ate something before he left.

“Are you back on the medicine?” he asked, settling her on one of the bar stools.

She grimaced at him. “No. I don’t need it right now. Well, maybe it would be useful, but I don’t want it. Why?”

“Because you’re not eating.” She’d lost probably five pounds, easy.

“I never eat when I’m miserable.” She sighed and shrugged. “The ADHD drugs aren’t the only thing that kills my appetite. Finding out what happened to Mom. The memorial. Nosy bitches who don’t need to be at Mom’s memorial anyway. All of
those
things will make me not want to eat.”

“You’re going to eat.”

She slid him a look. “Am I now?”

He came back over to the island and planted one hand in front of her, the other on the back of her chair. “You are. You’re wasting away.” Then, because he knew she might ignore him if he bossed her around, but she’d never ignore him if he asked, he softened his voice and said, “Please, Tink.”

She sighed.

Reaching up, he cupped her cheek, wished he had the right to stroke his thumb over the full curve of her lower lip, maybe press his lips to hers and see if he couldn’t find some way to stir her appetite and make her forget some of her misery for a while.

She covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “You need a wife, Guy. You just love taking care of people.”

“Not all wives want to be taken care of.” He shrugged and turned away. He wasn’t about to tell her that the only woman he wanted to take care of was her, that the only woman he wanted was the woman he’d never have.

“So get a dog.”

“Funny.”

“Oh. Oh, shit.” The chair screeched against the floor as she shoved it back and he looked over his shoulder to see her coming across the floor to him. “I’m sorry. That was stupid and thoughtless. Guy, I’m sorry. I—”

Confused, he caught her arms in his hands, staring at the blush spreading across her face. “Chris, what…” Then he realized, understanding hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Baby, stop. I’m not going to get a dog because I’m never home to take care of one.”

“That was mean, and stupid,” she said, the words rushing out of her. “I don’t know why I said it. I’m never going to learn to think—”

He’d like to think he did it just to make her stop kicking herself.

But Guy would have given his left arm to have the chance to kiss her again. And there she was, tears blurring her beautiful green-gold eyes, while the self-doubt and self-anger built inside her.

Because he hated seeing it, he caught her face in his hands and cut off her words by pressing his lips to hers. “No,” he murmured as she stumbled to a halt, her lips still moving slightly against his as she sucked in a breath. “Just no, Tink, okay?”

He went to pull away.

Her hands came up, fisted in the lapels of his suit.

“Do that again,” she said.

He stared at her.

“Chris…”

She licked her lips, her gaze locked on his mouth. “There’s been nothing but noise in my head most of the day. I’ve told you what it’s like. Usually I can turn it down or tune it out better than this, but not today. When you’re touching me, it’s better.”

She eased back in and pressed her lips to his again. “Do it again. But really kiss me.”

He tangled his fist in her hair. “Chris, we said we weren’t doing this anymore.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me?” she whispered, easing back just enough to touch her fingers to his lips.

That light touch was a torturous pleasure, one that went flying through him, straight down to his cock, drawing his balls tight while he fought the urge to grab her dress, pull it up, and just bury himself inside her.

“Not want you…” He closed his eyes, struggled to think for just a blessed minute. Chris complained that she had
noise
in her head and he could believe it. She lived her life like she was running at high speed and only had so much time to do the million things she had firing inside her head. Guy had something in his head, too.

Her.

Just her.

Always her.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked back at her.

He tugged her up against him, her body flush with his. His erection pulsed against her belly and her breath shuddered out of her. “Oh,” she whispered, a smile lighting up her face. “You do want—”

“
Want
has nothing on how I feel. But you need to be sure this
is
what you want. What you really want.” He dipped his head but instead of pressing his mouth to hers, he angled her head back and pressed his mouth to the delicate notch between her collarbone, felt the soft gasp fall from her. “It’s not just something you’re doing to kill the hours before you can sleep. It’s not something you’ll regret in the morning. You regretted it last time.”

“I didn’t.” She slid her hands up, her fingers biting into his shoulders through the layers of clothes. “I didn’t regret it. It was just…” She shook her head. “You’re making me think too much but it wasn’t regret. Anything but that. And I won’t regret this. Give me tonight, Guy. Please.”

* * *

Please. Don’t make me beg—

Those words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but then, words and thought lost all meaning as the hand he’d tangled in her hair moved, bringing her in closer to him.

Hunger, anticipation, vied inside her and she rose up onto her toes to meet his kiss.

But he didn’t kiss her.

His lips feathered across her cheekbone, brushed down her jawline to her neck. She whimpered as he tugged her head to the side, exposing her neck, but before she could even think about complaining, he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck.

At the same time, his other hand pulled her skirt up.

She gasped as cool air kissed her flesh.

His hand, rough and warm, palmed her flesh and he muttered, “Damn. Here I was getting all worked up and you had to go and decide to wear panties.”

It surprised a laugh out of her.

“I always wear panties when I’m wearing a dress. And how do you know that I tend…”

She lifted her head to meet his eyes and the words stuck in her throat. His eyes, those dark gray eyes, burned hot. “I’ve got a fascination with how your ass fills out a pair of jeans, Tink. I can tell you how many times you’ve worn panties every day this past week.”

She made a face at him. “If I’m wearing jeans, I don’t usually wear them at all. I like my jeans tight.” She shrugged. “Panties ride up.”

“We can’t have that.” He let her skirt fall down and then his hands were on her hips, turning her around.

He dipped his head, pressed a kiss to her nape. “Naked. I want to see you naked.”

She didn’t say a word. She was too busy processing what he’d just told her.
I’ve got a fascination …

Just thinking about it made her belly jump around. It also made her nervous.

“Stop thinking,” he whispered. The rasp of her zipper seemed terribly loud as he dragged it down. The red dress would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught it and draped it over the back of one of her bar stools. “If you have to think at all, think about what I’m doing. What I’m going to do.”

One hand nudged her forward and she closed her eyes, automatically bracing her hands on the island in front of her.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her breath hitching in her chest. “Right now you’re just talkin’—oh!”

Her panties fell in scraps to the floor and he whispered, “I like you better without them.” And then he slid a hand up the inside of her thigh. “Open for me, Tink.”

He didn’t give her a chance to brace herself, or even breathe as he pushed two fingers inside her, twisted.

His other hand smoothed up her back, freed the catch on her bra, and she hurriedly stripped it away, hating the feel of it against her all of a sudden. The only thing she wanted against her was him—just him.

She pushed back against his hand, riding him, half desperate for the release that was already burning inside her. “More?” he asked.

“Yes.” She had to force the word out of her tight throat, her hands clutching at the island.

“What do you want?” He used his hand on her hair to tug her up, his lips pressed to her temple.

“You, damn it. Just you.”

“Hmm.” He angled her head back around, his mouth coming down on hers, hungry, demanding, and she met that bruising, rough kiss as he twisted his fingers inside her cunt.

A climax splintered through her and she would have screamed if he hadn’t caught the sound and swallowed it down. “That’s it,” he muttered as she strained against him, desperate for the kiss, desperate for his touch, desperate for everything. “Come. Come…”

When it ended, the strength, and tension, drained out of her and if it wasn’t for his hands, she might have puddled on the floor at his feet.

He swept her up in his arms. “Not done with you yet.”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

Chapter Two

But he was gone in the morning.

Her body felt bruised from the hours they’d spent climbing over each other and her mouth was swollen.

Instead of sobbing into her pillow all night, she’d spent the night with him and she’d hoped she’d wake up with him, instead of the noise in her head.

He had to work.