Chapter 16
Jillian
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The pattering of rain against the roof woke Jillian. She blinked into the darkness, disoriented for a moment, until she realized the other side of the bed was empty and she was in her house.
"Moe?" she whispered.
She rolled out of bed and walked into the living room. He never left her in bed alone.
He stood in the open doorway, framed by the storm. Bare-chested, jeans slung low on his hips, feet planted on the hardwood like he was bracing against the weather. His hair was damp from the night air, his shoulders tense, every line of his body alert.
He wasn't looking at the rain.
He watched the sky.
Jillian crossed the room, not wanting to startle him, but he stiffened the moment her hand touched the warm skin of his back.
"What are you doing?" she said softly.
His voice was low, rough. "Watching for the veil."
She stepped beside him, following his gaze into the dark. Sheets of rain fell in silver streaks, the wind changing the direction of the downpour.
"It's just a summer storm," she murmured. "This is the Pacific Northwest. It rains off and on until the Fourth of July. You're safe."
His jaw worked, muscles tight, like he was fighting something inside himself. Jillian slipped her hand into his.
His fingers closed around hers. She pulled gently.
"Come back to bed," she whispered.
He turned toward her. The streetlight lit his face for a heartbeat. There were shadows under his eyes. He was troubled.
"Sweetheart, if I get back in that bed with you..." He swallowed, eyes dropping to where their hands were joined. "...we won't be sleeping." He inhaled a ragged breath. "I can't keep doing this."
The storm rumbled overhead. She caught her lip, raking her teeth over the sensitive skin. It wasn't like she hadn't thought of having sex with him before. They'd slept together in Everstill until she'd gotten used to having him hold her hand.
Seeing her mom tonight pushed her toward Moe. She sought him out for comfort and support. In the veil, he'd saved her life.
She had no one but him, whether they were in Everstill or in Vancouver.
He let go of her hand slowly, as if it cost him everything. "I'd never hurt you," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jillian's heart thudded once, hard.
She stepped closer even though her mind was reminding her that Moe had kidnapped her. He was responsible for holding her captive in Everstill.
But her heart trusted him.
And the storm outside cracked open the sky.
Jillian slipped her fingers into his hand and stepped back, pulling him inside. She took one step toward the bedroom, and that was the end of her taking the lead. Moe's fingers twined with hers, and he took her to the room with an urgency that beat the storm.
His hands were on her before she reached the bed, tangling in her hair, pulling her against him so hard he found her lost breath when he captured her lips.
She kissed him back with no hesitation, just a low, approving hum when he bit down on her lower lip.
Her uncoordinated fingers could only slip underneath his belt and hold on.
Moe grabbed the oversized t-shirt she wore to sleep in and pulled it up her body.
She raised her arms, glad to have it off her so she could feel the heat of his body against her.
She'd slept beside him for so long, wondering and worried and sick about how she was feeling, but now, since coming back home, nothing felt more right than being with Moe.
The shirt fell to the floor. Moe slid his fingers underneath the waist of her panties and slid them over her hips. She trailed her palms over his chest, her nails scraping slightly through the damp trail of rainwater still clinging to his skin.
Moe grunted, fingers skating up the ladder of her ribs. She arched into his touch, her breath hitching when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. "Do you know how much I've wanted you?" he muttered against her jaw, dragging his teeth down the column of her throat.
"You never said anything." Jillian panted.
"I've fucked up my entire life." He turned around, sat on the edge of the bed, and yanked her forward until she straddled his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips. "I didn't want to fuck up you."
He was a felon. A wanted man. She had a feeling he took what he wanted. He already kidnapped her. She didn't want him to stop now.
She kissed him softly. "Don't hold back with me."
"I need to."
"No."
"Yes."
She pulled her head back. "Why?"
"Because you're too important to lose," he whispered.
"You're not going to lose me. We made it through the veil together. That must mean something."
His hands settled on her waist. "I don't know."
She kissed the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Moe hissed, his hands tightening on her hips, and rolled them over in one fluid motion, pinning her beneath him. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. "Stop thinking," she whispered, her voice rough. "Just—"
He didn't let her finish. His mouth crashed into hers again. His palm landed between her legs. She bucked beneath him, her legs hugging his thighs.
"Christ, you're wet." Moe's words dissolved into a groan as she rocked against his hand, her hips tilting up to meet every stroke.
Moe traced the slick line between her legs.
She failed at holding her breath. Her exhale came out sharp and ragged as he circled his thumb just the way she liked.
Somehow, impossibly, he already knew how to please her.
She arched into his touch, her nails scoring down his back, marking him in ways that would linger long after the storm passed.
Her movements grew frantic. She gasped. There was something intoxicating about the way she unraveled under his hands, the way her thighs trembled when he slowed his movements to watch her squirm.
Moe ducked his head, dragging his tongue along the swell of her breast, biting down hard enough to make her cry out.
Restless and wanting, Jillian shoved at his waistband until the button gave way. She slid her hand down the front of his jeans. Her fingers curled around him, stroking once, twice before Moe rolled onto his back.
She straddled him. Her heat pressed against his stomach. She rolled her hips, grinding down in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Moe groaned, his hands finding purchase on her waist, thumbs digging into the soft flesh above her hips. "Fuck."
"Do you like it?" she murmured, leaning down to drag her teeth over his collarbone.
Moe bucked instinctively, his hands sliding up her back and back down to her ass. Her nipples hardened.
She sprawled her hands on his chest, digging her fingers into his muscles. She wanted to map the planes of his stomach, the dip of his hips, the rough scrape of whiskers along his jaw.
Moe lifted his ass, pulled down his jeans. She moved back, sinking down onto him. The instant fulfillment of him inside her brought out a moan that left her raw and overwhelmed as she took each agonizing inch.
Moe's grip on her hips tightened, his thumbs pressing into the hollows just above her thighs.
Jillian rolled her hips slowly at first, then faster, her nails biting into his shoulders as she found her rhythm.
The bed frame creaked beneath them, the sound lost under the wet slap of skin on skin, the ragged pull of their breathing.
She was relentless, riding him with a focus that was pure obsession, her eyes locked on his as she tried to memorize the way he came apart beneath her. She couldn't look away, wouldn't, even if she could.
She had never seen Moe this way, needy and aroused. Her pussy pulsed, squeezing down on him. She had a deep desire to keep him inside of her forever and never let him go.
Moe's hands slid up Jillian's back, fingers splaying across her shoulder blades as she arched above him. Her body trembled with the effort of holding back. Her thighs clenched around him. Her body bowed, and she pressed her forehead against his as her rhythm stuttered.
"Look at me," he growled
It took all her energy to lift her head.
Then she was coming, her body tightening around him like a vice, her nails raking down his chest hard enough to leave marks.
Moe's hips jerked rapidly as she rode out the aftershocks.
He came with a groan, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
She collapsed onto his chest, still connected to him.
He ran his hand up her bare back and palmed the back of her neck, breathing heavily. "Okay?"
She nodded. "Mm, hm."
He was a big man. Even now, his cock pulsed inside of her, pressing for more room. Cum ran out her pussy onto her thigh. She lifted her head and met his gaze, realizing maybe he wasn't asking about her comfort, but questioning if it was okay that he hadn't worn protection.
She moved her arm, showing him the inside of her bicep. "I have an implant."
"For what?"
"It's a form of birth control. It's good for 3 years. I have two more years left. I can't get pregnant..." She lowered her arm. "In case you were worried."
He lifted her off him and sat up. She pressed her thighs together.
"I wasn't worried about that." He glanced between her legs. "I didn't want to hurt you."
She sagged beside him. "You didn't. It was wonderful."
"Yeah?"
"I need to shower." She smiled and stood. "You're dripping down my leg."
He chuckled, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "Want me to clean it up?"
She laughed, cheeks warming as the sound left her mouth. "I think there's a lot that I don't know about you."
He caught her hand, pulled her back, and kissed her. "That hasn't happened in a long time."
She kissed him back. "Want to join me in the shower?"
Without a word, he followed her into the bathroom.
Emotionally and physically exhausted, she wanted to clean between her legs, crawl into bed, and sleep for the next week.
But she knew she couldn't. She had to work in two days.
Moe wanted to find his friend. And she needed to make sure the cops didn't find him.