Pieces in Chance (13 page)

When his eyes met hers, they were blazing, sending chills down her body. Shifting, he lifted her top, pulling it over her head before laying her down on the carpeted floor. He towered over her, his gaze tracing down her chest and stomach before resting on her face again. A question formed on his face;
is this okay
he was asking. More sure than she’d ever been, Drew didn’t hesitate. She rose up just enough to kiss him once more and brought him down against her.

She kissed him with all the desire she could, but it still felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him. She needed more. Reaching between them, she grasped the hem of his undershirt and pulled it upward, until it wouldn’t go any farther. Jensen broke their embrace to pull it over his head, tossing it across the room before settling his mouth over hers once more. His skin was hot where it met hers, his weight comfortable and familiar. Abruptly he pulled back again.

“Drew, baby, are you … We can stop, but if we’re going to stop, we need to stop now,” he told her, his struggle with control making it harder for Drew to read his words. She could feel Jensen’s muscles quivering, whether from the effort he was expending or something else, she wasn’t sure.

What Drew did know, was that she didn’t want to stop. Memories tried to flood her, but she closed her eyes against them. This wasn’t the last time, and Jensen wasn’t
him.
She wasn’t sure if Jensen was in love with her, but his typed response –
you own my heart –
told her he felt close. She wanted this, wanted him, all of him, to hell with any consequences.

“Don’t,” she mouthed, the term that had become theirs in the past few weeks. It was said when one was thinking something the other didn’t want them to; it was said when they were playing, it was theirs, and she meant it now.

Jensen hesitated for a moment, obviously weighing her response, and possibly the meaning behind her utterance, before dropping his lips to her neck. He trailed kisses down to her breasts, to her stomach, to the seam of her jeans. Drew watched as his fingers deftly unfastened the button and slid the zipper down. He stopped again, his forehead wrinkling with thought, and he stood, scooping her up with him and carrying her to the bedroom.

“Not on the floor,” he mouthed slowly in explanation as he kicked the door shut and placed her softly on the mattress. Moving quickly, he lit the candles on the dresser and turned to face her. She’d seen glimpses of desire in the man before her, seen the passion he kept close to his chest. Now, though, he had it all on display and he simply took her breath away.

Chapter Ten
 

Jensen

Jensen stood, unable to move as he took in the vision of Drew before him, lying on his bed. She’d propped herself up on her elbows to watch him, an expression on her face he’d seen before, but not to this extent. Drew was radiant with desire, her eyes hooded and her cheeks flushed. Her chest rose and fell, her breaths coming quickly as she waited.

Climbing on the foot of the bed, he slowly made his way to her, his hands trailing up her still jean-clad legs. Glancing at her, he gripped the sides of her waistband and tugged, pulling them off her, revealing her creamy ivory skin. She seemed too good to be true, too beautiful to be real and in his bed. Jensen would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t been dreaming of this, of seeing her body, touching her. But what was in front of him was nothing like his dreams – she was better.

He started at her feet, using his fingers to massage the sole, which elicited a soft moan to escape her.
Fuck, that sound
, he thought, almost groaning to himself, trying to keep his focus. It was taking all of his self-control to not simply ravage her – and while he wanted to do just that, he wanted to cherish her. Trailing kisses up her legs, alternating soft nips and licks, he stole a glimpse of her. Drew’s eyes were closed, her hands already bunching in the soft comforter.

This close, Jensen had a moment to take her in – somewhere she’d gotten purple lace panties, something he wasn’t expecting. He could see her skin through the delicate fabric and, as he toyed with the sides, he had to work not to rip them off.
Slow … be patient, Marks,
he scolded himself, pressing his nose against her and inhaling.

“Jens,” her voice came to him, clearing the fog of his thoughts, a plea. Her hips were rolling against the bed, squirming, desperate for his touch, which turned him the fuck on.

Unable to deny her anything, he whispered against her skin that he’d take care of her. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but his breath on such a sensitive area had her arching into him. In one swift motion, he’d removed her panties, his own breath catching at the sight of her bare to him. Soft red hair covered her, and he let a finger trail through it before exploring further.

Fuck, she’s wet
, he moaned in his head, running a second finger between her folds. Jensen wanted to taste her, wanted to see if she was as sweet as he knew she would be. Holding her hip with one hand to keep her in place, he used the other to spread her and dragged his tongue upward. Closing his eyes, he did it again and again, relishing in her softness. When moving to make another pass, Drew’s small hand grabbed at him, an attempt to stop him, and he looked at her, confused.

“Jens, please.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and started to go back to his ministrations, but she was unmoving, not letting him. She tugged at him and he relented. Moving upward, it was she who caught his face and brought her lips to his, tasting herself on his lips, almost unmanning him. Did she even realize what she was doing to him? How fucking sexy she was? When one of her hands snaked down the front of his slacks to find him hard and ready, he almost lost it.

“Drew,” he murmured against her lips, unable to keep her name from tumbling out of his mouth. Jensen rested his head on her forehead, shifting to allow her a better angle as she continued to fondle him. Her other hand pulled at the button and deftly pulled his zipper down, freeing him completely. Small fingers grasped him, pulling at him, and he captured her lips, allowing her to swallow his groan. Reaching between them, he let his fingers explore her, touching and caressing.

Drew’s hips were rising with each touch, her actions quickening, pulling on him, bringing him to the brink. Breaking away, he caught her hand.

“Baby,” he said, watching her eyes follow his one utterance. She nodded and he mirrored the gesture. It was Drew who reached over and pulled a condom out of the drawer, handing it to him, her green eyes piercing through him. Jensen was grateful in that moment she’d given it to him; if her fingers had wrapped around his cock one more time, he was going explode.

Wrapped, he positioned himself at her entrance, an arm on each side of her head. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly pushed forward, giving her body a chance to adjust to his. She was so tight, so wet, even through the thin material separating them.

“Jensen.” His name was breathy as it fell from her lips, garbled, and he stopped moving, afraid he’d hurt her. But Drew’s hands reached around, grabbing his ass and pulling him deeper into her, surprising him and taking his breath away. Their groans were in unison as he seated completely inside her, her body tightening around him.

He’d planned that when and if it ever happened, if he ever got the chance to make love to Drew, he wanted it to last. He’d wanted romantic and long sex, only after he’d had ample time to prepare her – he didn’t want it to hurt, and especially didn’t want to be the one who hurt her. She had other ideas, which he should have known. Even now, as he was hesitant to move, she was swiveling her hips, forcing him to.

“Love me, Jens.”

Drew’s eyes were closed, her mouth parted, and he knew anything he said would be lost right now. So, instead, he did as she asked. Pulling back, he slowly eased in, before repeating the motion, each time his thrusts going deeper and harder. Jensen relished in the feel of her, amazed by her, enjoying her nails digging into the muscles of his arms, his back.

Come on, Marks, hold out
, he mentally pep-talked himself. Each movement had more sounds tumbling out of her, his name on constant repeat. Drew’s breaths became erratic and he could feel her quivering inside; he only prayed he could make it. It had been a while, a long while, since he’d had sex – one-night stands no longer did it for him. And since he’d met Drew, he hadn’t been able to even
think
about anyone like that.

“Fuck, Jensen,” she groaned brokenly, and he gritted his teeth. Drew rarely swore, and hearing the words coming from her as she clung to him was almost too much. Determined, he thrust again, and again, sparing nothing, letting him reach the end of her.

“Come on, baby,” he said aloud, not caring if she could hear him. Jensen continued moving, and, finally, she let go, her body tightening around him and bringing his own climax. Still he kept thrusting, forcing her to ride her orgasm out until the last, until the sensitivity was too much for him to bear.

Struggling not to collapse on her, he shifted to the side, taking her with him. Together they lay there, neither moving, the only sound in the room their mixed breathing. For the first time in a long time, Jensen wished she could hear – if only to hear the love and beauty in the silence.

Jensen was still holding Drew when she pulled back, getting his attention. Though the flush of her cheeks had faded, it was still imprinted in his memory and he cupped her face. She allowed him to kiss her softly, but stopped him before he could press for more.

“What happened?” she asked, entwining her fingers with his and staring up at him.

He sighed, not wanting to relive the day’s nightmare. The mood in the room had been full of peace and bliss, yet he was only going to bring sadness. Shutting his eyes, flashes of the scene he’d been called to sparked behind them, and he cringed.

“Carrigan and I were sent out on a call today,” he told her slowly, ensuring there was enough space between them that she could read his lips without strain. If he was going to discuss this, discuss the rare horror of his job, he only wanted to do it once. Truthfully, he didn’t want to tell her at all, but her eyes were serious – she meant business and wasn’t going to let him get away without spilling.

“It was a domestic disturbance call – meaning someone called because a fight was grabbing attention around them.” Understanding immediately colored Drew’s face, and Jensen hated himself a little. Of course she’d know what a domestic disturbance was … She’d lived the same nightmare, but, luckily, with a different outcome. “The couple were new to town – only been here about a month or so. No one really knew anything about them except they were early thirties or so, and had an eight-year-old son.”

“Were? Had?”

Her astuteness no longer surprised him. Drew didn’t need her hearing – she caught everything, probably because the lack of. It never failed that she would see through his every fib, merely based off his expression, or the way his lips moved when he spoke. She was incredible … and slightly intimidating.

“When we got there … well, we expected…” Jensen stopped, trying to focus on forming his words and Drew squeezed his hand. “We expected a couple fighting – the basic stuff, yelling and throwing things. Instead we found the wife on the floor, a gunshot wound to the head. The husband wasn’t far away; he’d eaten his gun after killing her.”

“What about their son?” Drew asked, emotion coloring her words, making them distort. Her eyes had grown glossy, knowledge forcing them out of her. She knew where he was going, what had more than likely happened. He could tell she didn’t want it to be true; she wanted him to tell her the boy was fine, that they got to him in time.
Baby, I wish I could tell you those things,
he thought before taking a deep breath.

“He was behind the couch, huddled in a ball. He…” Jensen’s voice broke and he was grateful she hadn’t heard it, though he knew she knew. “He was gone. Shot three times.”

The utter despair that covered Drew’s gaze was too much for him to bear and Jensen closed his eyes, only to be bombarded with images that would haunt him. Everything he’d ever experienced, the death and heartache of war, had never kept up at night. Under orders, Jensen had done things he wasn’t proud of – hell, he’d killed people. He felt bad when he’d done it, but orders were orders; it was simple logic that had been ground into him since he was a young man. One didn’t disobey orders from a high-ranking superior, and certainly not during combat. But this, this he knew was going to follow him everywhere he went.

Jensen hadn’t even had a hand in this. He’d merely been the one called on scene, the one to find the bodies. Yet, it hit him where it hurt the worst. There wasn’t anything he could do, anyone he could hunt down and lock up, throwing away the key when he was done. There couldn’t be any vengeance here and he hated it.

“My God,” Drew murmured, not moving to brush away an errant tear that was trailing down her cheek. She looked up at him innocently, yet with so much age and maturity, he could hardly stand it. “I’m so sorry. Sorry for the boy … and sorry you had to see it.”

“Drew, God, Drew. If we had gotten there earlier…”

“No, Jens. No. This wasn’t your fault,” she scolded, shaking her head.

“You don’t understand!” he all but yelled, immediately regretting it. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t hear the tone in his voice; she saw it on his face and cringed back, trying to move away from him, but he stopped her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. It’s just…”

She continued trying to move away from his embrace, trying to pull out of his arms, but he held steady. Fear was written all over her, which only served to make him feel worse. She looked like she expected him to hit her, to raise a hand to strike her, which would never, ever happen.

“Stop looking at me like that – you’re killing me. It’s just … he was still warm, Drew. He was still warm, bruises all over his fucking body. If we’d gotten the call earlier, or something … I just…”

Drew stopped fighting him, but still didn’t relax, instead studying his face. Jensen was fighting the emotion that was beginning to choke him, so many he could barely name them. Sadness, anger, guilt for scaring her, fear, heartache. It was taking everything he had not to break down, to not cry, which he’d done the entire way home. Carrigan had left him at the scene, the older man shaking his head sadly and heading home to his wife and baby. Jensen, though, had stayed. He’d stayed beside the boy until the medical examiner had taken him away; he’d stayed and whispered how he was sorry for what had happened and how he wished things could have been different.