Chapter Twenty-Nine
B irch wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting upon waking after the night they’d had, but Jocelyn pacing his kitchen in heels and a suit with her phone tight to her ear wasn’t it.
Though it did explain the suitcase he’d tripped over at the foot of his bed.
Straddling a chair, he watched the changes in her face while the person on the other end of the line spoke. Her lips pursed and tightened, her delicate brows arched periodically, her steel eyes narrowed. Her hair was sleek and smooth, her fitted black jacket hugging her curves, the tight knee-length skirt showing off her lean legs. Every so often, she hummed in agreement or disagreement. The odd curse was whispered to the ceiling.
She didn’t seem to notice him, so he continued to notice her.
Electric-blue, sky-high heels clicked across the tile to a piece of printer paper on the counter covered in scrawled notes and numbers.
“Angelo. No. I…yes. Push the Chicago case with the press.” Her voice was the same enticing mixture of confidence and huskiness he loved hearing when she was in a take-charge mood. “If you can keep this one out of view, I’ll fly up and pose nice for a few pictures. Uh-huh. You bet. I’ll even toss in a smile for one.” Her lips turned up into the satisfied smirk she wore whenever she got her way. “Make sure you remind Puller I expect my lawyers to pick up on the first ring. I’ll call you later.”
Setting her phone down, she lifted the paper and turned, not looking up to acknowledge him. “I love you, Birch. And because I love you, and because I wasn’t as upfront about my job and my past as I should have been, I’m not going to lecture you about misguided gestures of sacrifice on my behalf.” Her eyes finally met his and she lifted a brow. “But next time you consider facing jail time as a solution to a problem, let me take care of it.”
He reached a hand out to her, happy when she stepped closer to him and took it, allowing him to pull her against the back of the chair where he could wrap his arm around her hips. “Sorry. I kind of tuned out after the ‘I love you’ part.”
She cupped his chin and bent down, brushing her lips against his. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she slipped from his hold and sauntered to the coffee pot. “I have a bulldog of a defense lawyer on standby waiting for my call, and two talented weasels from his financial division chomping at the bit to review my work and ensure I wasn’t blinded by your hotness.” Turning back to him, coffee cup in hand, she gave him a look harsh enough to make him wince until she spoke again. “A few weeks ago, you called yourself morally sound but ethically challenged , and while I didn’t say so at the time, I understood that more than you know. You’re about to see that you aren’t the only one around here who knows how to shade in between the black and white.” When his eyes widened, she pointed to the stairs. “You have thirty minutes to get ready before we head to the police station. That’s ten to get dressed, five to down a cup of coffee.”
With a quick add of the numbers, he cleared his throat. “What about the other fifteen minutes?”
She set her coffee down and strode over to him, her heels clicking on the file as she nuzzled his jaw. “Your brother took off thirty minutes ago and I have plans.”
Her tongue trailed along his throat to his ear and a shiver went down his spine. “Can I be in on your plans?”
“I guess so. But I’m in charge. And we’re on a tight timeline.”
He and authority had never gotten along well.
But Jocelyn’s version of control was definitely up his alley.
She kissed him hungrily, one hand running through his hair while the other tugged his shirt up. Leaning away from him, she shrugged off her jacket and tugged her shirt over her head. The visual of the fabric revealing her skin to him inch by inch went straight to his cock, the view of her skimpy black bra imprinting in his brain instantly.
Without hesitation, she yanked his shirt up, her lips on his chest before he managed to remove it completely. Her tongue swiped over one nipple, and he groaned as her teeth bit down gently. Reaching around to unhook her bra, he eased the straps off of her shoulders, his lust ratcheting up when she backed off him and stood, discarding it on the floor. Slipping a condom out of her purse, she unzipped her skirt and shimmied it off her hips.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he moaned when he caught sight of the thong she chose, the red one she wore the night he first had her splayed out in his shop, the lace leading to a thin silver chain arcing over her hips. He stood up on autopilot, drawn to the view before him.
“Fuck yeah is right,” she agreed, popping the button of his jeans and easing the zipper down. Her hand slid into his boxers, her fingers gripping his cock and pumping him slowly. She pushed him onto one of the kitchen chairs, palming him with one hand and passing him the condom with other. “Open it and slide it on nice and slow.”
He obeyed, his heart thumping hard against his ribs as she watched him roll the thin latex down his shaft, her hips moving into the perfect position for him to push into her, the lace thong the only barrier between him and paradise. He tugged the delicate fabric aside, exhaling when her nails dug into his shoulder as she lowered herself onto him. Pausing to give her body time to adjust to his size, she began to move, the sensual roll of her hips almost sending him over the edge.
He cupped her breast and sat up to flick his tongue over her nipple, his head dropping back when he felt her fingers skim over his balls.
“Jocelyn,” he growled, his hips bucking when she adjusted her position, and he plunged deeper inside her. “You gotta give me a minute.”
She arched back and grasped his knees. “And you gotta give it to me hard. One of us is getting her way before the timer goes off.”
Clenching his teeth, he grabbed her hips to keep her in place. He pounded into her, torn between watching them in the hall mirror across the room and watching her ride him. One was an incredible view of her breasts moving with every thrust, her lean thighs spread wide so he could see where they were joined. The other provided the sight of her ass under his hands, bare except for the thong she wore for him.
And neither were helping him in the lasting department.
He brought his thumb to her nub, his rhythm faltering when he let go of her hip.
Swatting his hand away, she took over, her breathing growing heavy. “I’m on it. You keep banging me.”
His laugh turned into a pained groan when his balls tightened at the vision of her touching herself, the sensation of her walls gripping him barreling him toward the peak. “Ah, fuck,” he moaned, his head dropping back. “Baby, I’m gonna come.”
Her hand grasped his shoulder, and he felt her thighs squeeze his. “Push me over the edge, Birch,” she panted in his ear. “Please.”
He dug his heels into the floor and increased his speed. “You’re so fucking wet and tight,” he growled, releasing her hip long enough to slap her ass. “All I can think about is fucking you in every room of this house and eating that sweet pussy until you beg me to send you over the edge.” He spanked her again and he grit his teeth as he felt the first flutters of her orgasm. “You make me so fucking hard I can’t hold back. I need you to come for me, baby.”
His hips slammed into her as his release tore out of him. He was vaguely aware of Jocelyn clinging to him as she rode out her own orgasm, the heat of her body pressed against his almost unbearable as his every nerve lit up and a quiet timer went off on the counter.
“Nice work,” she panted in his ear, climbing off of him and sliding her skirt up over her hips. “Coffee time.”
Gathering what was left of his mind, he launched at her phone, set a new timer, and caged her against the counter.
*
Birch glanced at Jocelyn as she tilted the visor of his truck down, flipped the cover to the mirror open, and touched up her lipstick while she continued to walk him through possible scenarios that could unfold over the next twenty-four hours.
How she could switch so fast from the moaning vixen splayed across his kitchen counter to this cutthroat tigress was beyond him. Her beautiful mind was already in overdrive, the fingers that had left long scratches down his biceps flying across the screen of her phone as she fired off texts and made notes.
His mind was still easing back to reality after a second toe-curling orgasm, her taste still tempting him on his tongue.
“But either way, you don’t say a word unless Puller or I approve it,” she said, snapping the visor up and meeting his gaze. “Seriously, Birch? I know that look.”
“I can’t help it.” He shrugged as he made a left. “I think you broke me.”
Her expression shifted from exasperation with a hint of amusement to solid worry. “Why don’t you park over there and we can slow down, give you time to examine your options. We can give Puller a call and review the information, or get Angelo—”
“Or you can be okay with me handing you the reins on this. Because aside from Winter, I’ve never trusted anyone to decide what’s best for me,” he interjected, wrapping his hand over hers. “And that look isn’t me wanting to get down and dirty again, though I definitely do. Preferably in the shower since you didn’t let me last night. That look is just me being totally blown away by how incredible you are, how fucking smart you are, and how lucky I am to have you in my corner.”
Her eyes softened and she bumped her forehead lightly against his shoulder. “No pressure, right?”
“None. If I end up in the slammer for a century, I’ll still know you tried. Which is more than anyone other than my brothers have ever done for me.”
Straightening up, she exhaled and turned her attention back to her buzzing phone. “Alright. Today’s goal is keeping you out of lockup so the shower sex you’re hoping for happens with me and not some beefcake serving life. Because you are very cute and those Baker buns are very appealing.”
*
Jocelyn stood between Birch and the police station, knowing that even with her heels she couldn’t block his view of the large glass doors.
“Look at me,” she commanded as she placed her hands on his chest to bring his hazel eyes back to her. When he obeyed, his muscles tensing under her fingertips, she smoothed his black button-down and adjusted the collar. “You aren’t the bad guy here. You know it. I know it. All we’re doing is making sure the rest of the world knows it.”
“Sounds like a walk in the park.” He shoved his hands into his pockets then removed them, flexing his fingers. “Last time I did this, I wasn’t anywhere near this stressed. Which is weird, because I did it alone. There’s just—” He looked to the sky and blew out a puff of air. “There’s just so much more on the line this time.”
His admission simultaneously broke her heart and steeled her resolve to see Ryder Drayson marched out of Serpent’s Tongue in cuffs.
Because that asshole was the reason the incredible man steadying his nerves under her touch was here, preparing to walk into a cop shop filled with people who thought they knew who he was.
She would never tell him, but it wasn’t the world’s opinion she was worrying about in this moment. They needed to make it through the Epson PD first.
Brushing away a nonexistent fluff on his shirt, she smiled at him, hoping he wouldn’t see any hint of apprehension in her eyes. “Ready?”
He ducked down to kiss her before squaring his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
Firing off a quick text to Puller, she stepped beside him, matching her pace to his.
The first time she went from behind the scenes to front and center in a trial, she hadn’t fully understood the power of optics. Angelo’s warnings were mere words, her naive belief that truth and justice would conquer all evaporating with every sensationalized headline about the mogul her firm had nailed for fraud. While she’d slipped in and out of the courthouse through side entrances to avoid swaying potential jurors with her presence or words, her lover had been priming up to place himself front and center, monopolizing the media and throwing her entire life into a tailspin.
It was a mistake she vowed never to make again.
She and Birch strode into the Epson Police Department together, separating only when he opened the door for her and she gave him a polite nod of acknowledgement.
They needed to present a united front, needed to ensure that anyone who looked their way saw nothing but cohesion and confidence. Even without a reporter in sight, she and Birch had to treat every person who looked their way as a potential judge, juror, and executioner.
And with the Baker name already judged by almost every potential juror in town, there was no room to project a hint of hesitancy.
So although his hands were within reach and her heart was aching to take one to reassure him, she stayed her course, her attention locked on the office at the end of the hall while the receptionist called out to her.
“Ma’am? If you want to speak with Sheriff Fogerty, you’ll need to schedule an appointment.”
Hoping Birch would follow her lead and stay the course, she kept walking. “I don’t adjust my schedule for appointments. People adjust their schedules for me.” She could hear the receptionist calling Fogerty’s line. His phone rang behind the door up ahead and she flicked her wrist in a half-hearted wave. “Thank you.”
Birch breathed out beside her, his heavy footsteps almost masking his whispered words. “You’re kind of terrifying.”
“I know.”
She knocked once on the door before opening it and stepping into Fogerty’s office, Birch taking his cue and standing beside her, his heel tapping the door shut.
“Ms. Carter, Mr. Baker,” Bill greeted slowly as he hung up his phone. “I take it you’re the unexpected guests my receptionist was calling about.”
Sauntering over to an empty chair, she sat, pleased when Birch did the same. “If we aren’t, you’re more popular than I thought.”
His eyes moved from her to Birch and back, a flash of fear crossing his face so quickly she almost missed it. “How can I help you?”
“We have a recording we’d like you, and only you for now, to hear,” she said as she slipped the cassette and recorder from her laptop bag and placed it on his desk. His light blue eyes followed her movements and settled on the FOGERTY label still adhered to the old tape recorder. He swallowed twice in succession, his silence giving her the response she had hoped for. “Of course, this tape is nothing more than a prop to add a little oomph to our request. No one uses these old things anymore.” Turning to Birch, she motioned to the desk. “Should we play him your copy or mine?”
She could see the sweat forming on Bill’s forehead, a light sheen of panic settling on his face as Birch slid his phone from his pocket and swiped it to life.
“I’ll turn the volume to max so you don’t miss anything, Sheriff Fogerty,” Birch said, his tone conversational as he set the cell phone in front of Epson’s top cop.
The recording began and she was certain she saw Bill Fogerty flinch, the hard mask he was attempting to maintain slipping into confusion as Ryder’s voice came through the speaker.
“What am I listening to?” he asked, leaning closer to the phone.
Giving Birch a quick look to ensure he knew now wasn’t his time to talk, she sat back and crossed her legs. “Ryder Drayson, co-owner of Serpent’s Tongue Ink.”
Fogerty used the sleeve of his shirt to dab the sweat from his brow as subtly as he could while the recording played out. The man slowly regained his composure the longer Ryder spoke, his eyes moving to Birch periodically.
But her guy knew how to play it cool.
He was relaxed back in his chair, his knees splayed in typical alpha fashion, arms draped casually over the armrests. To someone who didn’t know him, he was the picture of calm and collected, his hazel gaze moving around the room with mild interest as though the words spewing from his business partner had no effect on him.
She, however, noticed the way the pinky finger on his right hand stretched toward her every time Drayson said her name. His feet were planted on the floor, the left one a fraction back in case he needed to move, and fast. The indifference in his expression was practiced, a gorgeous mask hiding the slight clenching of his jaw and the faint twitch in his right eye.
The recording came to an end and the three of them sat in silence, each waiting for someone else to make the next move.
When Fogerty gave first, she internally claimed her second victory of the day.
“Mr. Baker, Ms. Carter, I assume you know what you have here. And I assume you have a lawyer on speed dial.”