Chapter 11
JASON
I watched Laurel stride to the wooden stairs, admiring the graceful way she moved, even when she was full of anxiety. She sat on the second step, folded her arms across her chest, and rested her forearms on her knees.
Was she aware of what she was doing to me? I had to focus elsewhere. Anywhere else.
“How long do we have to stay here?” she asked.
“Ten, maybe twenty minutes.” Even without looking, I could tell she was shivering.
“What are we supposed to do until then?”
I knew what I’d like to do, how I’d lean her back over those stairs and find out what she tasted like.
Stop it.
“Whatever you want, I don’t care,” I lied.
My gaze drifted back to her, and even in the low light of the room, it was clear she didn’t buy it.
Her panic-filled face when I’d burst into her room had left me rattled, and the leftover agitation was finding other places to go.
Being stuck in the dark with her was dangerous, especially when she didn’t have a shirt on and the basement was cold, and the bra she was wearing beneath the Kevlar gave almost everything away.
I was sure I found her far more irritatingly attractive than she did me.
Fuck, I needed something to extinguish the slow burn of desire, and I needed to find it fast, but my brain failed me. So, I stood across from her in the darkened basement, gripping the flashlight so hard I worried I’d break it in half.
I went to the stairs and hesitantly sat beside her, knowing it was a mistake.
She shifted, moving her arms around like the vest was uncomfortable. “It’s scratchy.”
“I imagine. I usually have a shirt on when I’m wearing one.” Did I really need to remind myself she didn’t have a shirt?
“Do you have to wear one a lot?”
“When I’m in the field, I do. They’re annoying and decrease mobility, but, you know, helpful in stopping bullets some of the time.”
“Some of the time?” Her voice was alarmed.
Once again, my brain-to-mouth filter refused to work. “The vest can fail. Or if a shooter’s too close, the impact can cause internal bleeding. It can do more damage wearing one than not.”
She looked down at her vest like she thought it might explode.
“But,” I added quickly, “that doesn’t happen often. It’s a small gamble with a much bigger reward.”
It fell quiet so the only noise was the furnace running in the corner.
My phone buzzed, interrupting the horrible idea I’d had of putting my arm around her to keep her warm.
“This is Dunn.” I peered at her while pressing the phone to my ear, and my expression must have given away I was receiving bad news.
“What’s going on?” Her voice was edged with concern.
“The same car is back.”
I didn’t believe in coincidence, and neither did Bill, I explained to her. The car was casing the neighborhood. The second unit had called the local PD to perform a traffic stop, and they would know a lot more in the next ten minutes.
I didn’t flinch when her small, cold hand found mine on the step. I let it rest there for a moment, unable to move. The horrible idea revived in me, and I slid closer so I could tuck her under my arm.
I tried to convince myself there was nothing sexual about this. It was only about protection, helping to make her feel safe, warm, and not alone. But it only lasted until she shifted her weight and leaned into me. The warm, bare skin of her arm pressed against the naked skin of my chest.
The waiting was painstakingly long, and the desire for her grew more suffocating with each of her shallow breaths. When the call finally came that they’d taken the driver in for questioning, we both remained frozen.
“It’s safe to go upstairs,” I said.
She didn’t move.
Sometime before I’d drifted off to sleep last night, I’d decided what this was between us.
Lust.
I certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, but lust at first sight? That was definite. And labeling this as such gave me the belief I could overcome it.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Holding her like this, I forgot everything else around us. All I wanted was to put my hands and lips on her. Our gazes connected, and for just one single moment, I slipped and let what I was feeling show through. That I wanted to act on my desire.
Without warning, Laurel climbed on top of me.
She moved like it had been choreographed and both of our bodies knew the steps. The stair treads creaked beneath us as she straddled me, her knees on either side of my lap, while her fingers dove into my hair.
It was so she could pull my face to hers, and the moment our lips met, thought emptied from my mind. It burned away in the fire of our kiss.
Her mouth was hot and desperate, and I matched her greedy intensity. All the desire I’d bottled up over her poured out of me now, reckless and uncontrolled. I adjusted the angle of our kiss, taking charge, and she let out the softest, sexiest goddamn sigh when my tongue slipped past her lips.
The lush stroke of her tongue pumped heat into my body.
There were alarms blaring in my head, but I shut them down. I had what I wanted, my hands and mouth on her. What could be wrong with that? Nothing about this felt wrong—only that I’d waited so long to do it.
I pushed a lock of her hair out of my way as my mouth drifted across her cheek and down the slender column of her throat.
She smelled good, like sunshine and lemons and summer, in total opposition to the dark, cold, and musty basement.
My lips trailed a line of kisses from her ear down to her shoulder, and it made a shudder of pleasure wrack her body.
“Fuck,” I groaned in satisfaction as she ground herself in my lap, rubbing against the fly of my jeans. It made me want to peel back the straps on her Kevlar vest so I could have my hands on her—
I jolted as my brain came back online, and the war between my body and mind was brutal. My job was everything, and no matter how badly I wanted her . . . the woman on top of me threatened to destroy it.
I clasped my hands around her waist and lifted her with me as I rose from the stairs. Her legs folded around me, and I groaned against her lips, only this time with disappointment and frustration. What I needed to do was just as cruel to me as it was to her.
I broke off the kiss, set her back on her feet, and stepped away as soon as I was certain she wouldn’t fall over from shock.
“No,” I said. “We can’t.”
Laurel seemed dizzy, like I’d pulled her from a fog, and she wasn’t quite sure where she was.
“It was the adrenaline,” I tried to explain, “that’s all.”
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
I stared at her kiss-swollen mouth and got angry. Angry at the situation and angry at myself for allowing it, because kissing her hadn’t helped my situation at all. It had only made it more dire. My need for her was ten times stronger.
“That can’t happen again.” Was I telling her . . . or myself?
I got a flash of her guilty expression before she looked away. “I’m sorry. It won’t.”
“You’re upset about your situation, and it’s easy to get confused when that happens.”
Her attention snapped back to me and her eyes narrowed. “Confused?”
“My job is to keep you safe and that’s all.” I was all out of sorts, not liking how she was embarrassed when it was my fault, and I panicked. “Don’t read into it as more.”
She stiffened. “You kissed me back.”
I wasn’t sure how I did it. I’d never been much of an actor, but I felt my face turn hard. “I didn’t. I told you, it was just a reaction.”
“Because you have, like, no interest in me.” Her voice dripped with condescension.
Then I told the biggest goddamn lie of my life. “Yeah. That’s right.”
I watched her mouth fall open and expected every blue word she knew to come out, for her to call my bluff.
But she said nothing.
She took a deep breath and her expression turned cold. Hurt flooded her eyes, and it was the scariest reaction I could imagine.
Abruptly, she marched to the base of the ladder, grabbed the closest rung, and began to climb.
Shit.
“Laurel, wait.”
She didn’t. I followed right behind, but when she scrambled up through the trap door, she let it slam right on top of my head with a painful, well-deserved thud.