Chapter Eighteen
J ocelyn rolled over to grab her phone and silenced the Monday morning alarm while Birch groaned beside her. His strong arm wrapped around her hips and pulled her tightly to him.
“Time for me to reenter the real world,” she murmured, as she pushed her ass against his morning wood and he slipped his hand between her thighs. “I have a conference call at nine.” When his fingers began circling with the perfect speed and pressure, she closed her eyes. “Make it good, fast, and quiet.”
She liked quickies. There was something about the frantic heat that turned her on, even if she rarely got off.
But back at his shop Friday afternoon, Birch had taken her quickie bar and set it so high no other man would ever begin to reach it.
Whether it was his natural sex appeal keeping her primed whenever he was around or how responsive he was to her body, when he wanted to take her fast and hard, he had her on the brink within minutes.
She reached up to grip his bedpost as he entered her from behind and she whimpered his name when he trailed his fingers up her spine to her hair, grasping a handful and tugging.
“I fucking love that sound,” he growled in her ear, his other hand working her faster as her body began to tighten around him. “I want to hear my name on your lips when my head’s buried between your thighs tonight.”
“Yeah?” she panted, meeting his thrusts as he dove deeper inside her. “You sure you have another night in you?”
Flipping her onto her stomach in one move, he grabbed her by the hips and slammed into her at a punishing speed. The angle was building an incredible new sensation in her, setting her on fire when he slid one hand back to her nub and pinched.
“Holy fuck, Birch,” she moaned as every nerve in her body lit up. The orgasm radiated from her core and combined with the one his fingers coaxed out to curl her toes. Her grip on his bedpost faltered, her body completely under his command as he showed her no mercy. She knew she was babbling incoherently while she begged him for more, begged him to stop, and demanded he fuck her harder until his rhythm faltered and he let out a low, guttural groan.
He collapsed to her side, pulling her along with him while he caught his breath, his arms in a vice grip around her.
“To answer your question,” he finally panted into her hair, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, I have another night in me.”
*
Birch rolled his stool in closer and continued to shade in the tiger gracing his client’s shoulder blade. “You still good?”
“You bet,” the guy replied, switching the music to a new industrial metal band. “How’s it looking?”
“Probably the best cat I’ve done,” he stated honestly, glancing over at the sketch he taped to the counter. “Crank up the tunes.”
The music level went sonic, and he adjusted his angle to reach the eyes of the beast.
He was five hours into the piece, the time having flown by thanks to an amicable client, a sketch he was excited to bring to life, and the thought of seeing Jocelyn again when he was done his shift.
The euphoria he was riding all weekend was still holding. It was a situation his subconscious knew would come to an end soon, but his mind refused to acknowledge it. Logically he knew it was reckless to allow himself to relax into the relationship they were falling into, to become accustomed to seeing her sitting in his shop and sleeping in his bed. But everything about it, about her, felt good.
He liked it.
Liked it enough to block the survival instincts screaming in the depths of his mind to throw on the brakes before he fell too far.
Making breakfast together Saturday morning after she rode him hard all night was a first for him. They simply hung out in the kitchen and talked about inconsequential things while Grey stumbled down the stairs to join them. His brother had grinned like a Cheshire cat the whole time, giving him a thumbs-up behind her back when she started cracking eggs.
They went their separate ways for an hour here and there. While he worked on a particularly detailed cover-up, she returned to her hotel to pack a bag. When he sat down for a consultation with a new client, she went for a run. But every time she walked away from him, she left him with a searing kiss and a promise to be back soon.
And then she kept her word.
Her presence at Serpent’s Tongue kept the stress of Ryder and his drug dealing at bay while Birch worked, giving his mind a break from obsessively dissecting every call he received, each new package he signed for. Even when she sat silently at his side, book in hand and steel eyes concentrating on the page while he sketched out a new piece, she centered him. Her free arm would reach to him when his pencil stopped moving, offering her skin as a canvas for him to work out the image.
Temporary as his ink pens were, seeing his designs on her body when he woke beside her satisfied something inside him that he hadn’t known existed, the need to claim her as his and his alone.
It scared the hell out of him. But not enough to stop him from fantasizing about tattooing her skin permanently, knowing it would be his art on her body forever.
The fact that he considered teaching her how to use the gun herself so she could mark him too only served as a reminder to his logical side that he was already a goner. After all, there was a time limit on them, and it was approaching. Fast.
Finishing off the final strokes of the tiger, he sat back to admire his work, snapping a picture on his phone to show Jocelyn when he saw her in a few hours.
*
Jocelyn opened the spreadsheet she’d designed to track Serpent’s Tongue’s payroll, placed the stack of papers she needed to examine on the table, and smiled when she caught sight of the intricate floral design encircling her wrist and trailing up to her elbow.
Birch quickened her heart in a way no man had done before. He could make her laugh one moment, share a companionable silence the next, and set her on fire with a single heated gaze. She feigned reading on his sofa Sunday evening while he helped Grey study for his midterm exams, listening in while he drilled, praised, and encouraged his younger brother. She sat back and giggled when the two of them entered into a creative insult war, both grinning throughout until Grey admitted defeat and pulled out his phone to turn everyone’s teasing on to the latest photos of River.
It was so…idyllic. Homey and warm and sweet, it was the opposite of everything she’d steeled her heart against. Trial by fire had made her an expert at snubbing grand romantic gestures and broad declarations of love made publicly. She became skilled in seeing the tarnish under the dazzle, no longer blinded by stars and shiny toys.
But she had no defenses against a guy like Birch. And no matter how many times she told herself that her investment in their relationship started and ended with sex, her mind and heart continued to scoff at her from the bench.
Checking the dates of the bank statements, she organized them and began cross-referencing the payroll slips with the transfers into Birch and Ryder’s personal accounts.
Her morning conference call with Angelo and his partners had planted a seed in the back on her mind, a small idea taking root as she provided a vague overview of her current findings in the Serpent’s Tongue account. What she was uncovering was consistent across the other clients Trevor Drayson served, patterns of similar red flags rising high. The pieces of information Angelo received provided a worrisome picture, one she hoped the facts and numbers would shelter Birch from.
Because although she continued to approach her work objectively and the paperwork was unbiased in its mapping of her findings, her feelings for Birch were beginning to hit a dangerously high level. In a few weeks, her time in Epson would be ending and she would be returning to New Jersey.
Yet as she listened to Angelo review the upcoming assignments and his face filled the center of her computer screen, she started to wonder if leaving Epson was a must when her career required no office, no physical base. But if it wasn’t a guarantee she had to leave, did Birch even want her to stay? Or was the knowledge that they were together on a deadline more appealing to a man who didn’t do relationships than she hoped?
Or maybe it isn’t the deadline he finds so appealing. Maybe it’s your influence on where that deadline will lead.
The thought shot into her mind, and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to remember Birch wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t a bad guy.
He said so himself.
*
Birch adjusted his hold on the overflowing vase in his arm as the elevator doors opened. Stepping into the hallway, his sour mood from faking nice with Ryder evaporated as soon as he saw Jocelyn leaning in her doorway.
“This morning probably would have been a good time for me to ask what your favorite flower is.” He grinned and handed her the bouquet. “I was like a goddamn lost puppy following the florist around.”
A wariness flashed across her face before her eyes lit up and she examined the selection of white and blue flowers he finally chose. “Hydrangeas!” She smiled and pointed to the largest blooms next to the white roses, the only ones he could identify. “They’re perfect and stunning and you’re amazing and thank you.”
He toed his shoes off and followed her into the room, wondering why he’d even bothered to sit in his truck in front of the florist for twenty minutes debating the idea. Jocelyn was almost giddy as she placed the vase on the coffee table and opened the curtains to let the evening sun in.
And he was the reason.
Him, with all the baggage she was sifting through on her desk, with the brothers who came with the package, with the prison record following him through town.
He made Jocelyn fucking Carter giddy.
“I hope you don’t mind I put in an order with the restaurant downstairs,” she called over her shoulder as she leaned forward to smell the roses. “It should be here soon.”
Unable to wait any longer for her to come to him, he crossed the floor and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the lips he’d been daydreaming about all day. “Oh no, my woman’s making decisions without my input,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’m gonna have to go hunt for my balls in your purse later.”
She laughed as he nipped at her neck. “Your woman?”
“If you want the position, it’s open,” he ventured, his pulse racing when he realized how much he wanted to hear a yes and how little he cared about how that yes would work.
Her fingers grazed his jaw as she looked up at him, all playfulness gone. “Is it an exclusive position?”
“So exclusive it was created with you in mind.”
Biting her lip, she slid her hand along the back of his neck and it sent a shiver through him. “What happens when I finish work here? Or is there a termination clause built into the position?”
He felt wholly exposed. His overactive self-preservation told him to walk away, to slam the walls up before there were none left to raise. His next words would determine a path he hadn’t examined, hadn’t wanted to study for fear he would be faced to choose a road without her. Taking a deep breath, he took the jump. “No termination clause, no end date circled on the calendar. When you wrap up your work, we’ll figure it out together.”
*
With her physical need sated, Jocelyn rolled onto Birch and straddled him, placing her hands on his bare chest as she returned to the next pressing issue. “It wouldn’t make sense to uproot you. You have Grey to think about. And a house. And a shop. Plus, here you’re close to Winter. Closer to River. I can work from anywhere.”
He shifted his hips beneath her, letting her know under no uncertain terms he was angling for Round Two already. “I’m just saying, if Ryder’s bullshit shuts Serpent’s Tongue down, there isn’t much tying me here. Houses can be sold. Grey can live in the dorms. River is already four states away. And Winter doesn’t want visitors anyways. Besides, it might be nice to live someplace where the cops don’t pull me over every week and every stupid crime spree doesn’t result in the police at my door wanting to search my house for stolen goods.”
“You’re kidding,” she gasped, sitting up straight. “They don’t do that.”
“I was pulled over at a check stop on my way to the florist today,” he stated as he trailed his hands up her thighs. “Except the check stop didn’t check anyone else and the cops left after they searched my truck.”
Shaking her head, she crawled off of him, taking the blanket with her as she paced the floor. “They can’t just search you whenever they feel like it, Birch. It’s not legal.”
“Next time they do it, I’ll call the cops,” he replied with a chuckle while he reached for the comforter and tugged her back to the bed. “It’s not a big deal. They don’t find anything, no one gets hurt, and I’m on my way in fifteen minutes flat.”
Still frustrated he was so flippant about it, she crossed her arms and stood beside him as he sat up and pulled her between his legs. “This discussion isn’t over.”
He eased the blanket off of her and palmed her breast before leaning forward to flick his tongue across her nipple. “All I’m saying is my life here doesn’t override your life in Jersey, so I don’t want you thinking you have to give up what you have there because of what you think is keeping me here. I want to be where you are. The rest will fall into place.”
Running her hands through his hair, she closed her eyes. “If we do this. If, if, if.”
“When,” he muttered under his breath.
“If, when, whatever. All I have in New Jersey is an apartment and a defunct dating app.” When he growled, she smiled. “Which has long since been deleted and forgotten.”
“Better be.” He used the blanket still slack along her hips to pull her onto him as he fell back on the bed. “If you decide to stay, my place has five bedrooms. No expectations, no pressure. Though I should warn you I’m in one of them and my mattress is definitely the most comfortable.”
She gripped his hard length, pumping it a few times before lining it up and lowering herself onto him. “We’ll talk about this when you aren’t rock hard and thinking with the wrong head.”