The Phoenix (20 page)

Sweet heaven.

His fingers slipped beneath the minuscule elastic of her thong at her hip and he licked a path along the curve, then across her belly and down the other side. Moisture coated her folds, her nipples were ruched so tight the very air seemed to be too much against them and a sizzling throb had built in her clit.

And he hadn’t even touched her there yet.

She whimpered, fisted her hands in the sheets, and it took every bit of willpower she possessed to keep from arching her hips up, begging him for release.

“I think I’ll stop now and read a book.”

Charlie’s eyes widened and her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box.
“What?”
she all but wailed.

He laughed at her, the wretch, then bent forward and blew a long puff of hot air over the swollen nub at the top of her sex. Her neck arching away from the bed, she emitted a low growl and her thighs quaked.

“Jay,” she said warningly. “Do
something.
”

Another infuriating chuckle. He dipped a finger beneath her panties and slid it along her nether lips. “What do you want me to do, Charlie?”

“Me,”
she said. “Do
me. Now.
”

He hooked the elastic of her thong and swept the negligible bit of fabric out of the way, then fastened his mouth upon her so fast she gasped sharply and bucked beneath him. He weighted her thighs with his arms, spreading her open, and feasted upon her.

There was no other word for it.

He’d no more than swept his tongue over her clit when she came hard. Little lights danced behind her closed lids, every muscle went rigid with pleasure—the equivalent of a standing ovation in her body—and the breath that she’d just sucked into her lungs was held hostage until the orgasm crested and she could release it.

He reached up and massaged her breast and then his mouth followed his hand and he worked the budded crown against his tongue, sucking hard. Meanwhile, he was dallying between her legs again, thumbing her clit while laving her nipple, and, impossibly, she felt release building again. The dual assault was purposeful and relentless and there seemed to be a magical thread running between the two sensitive areas because every lick or stroke of the one elicited a similar response in the other.

“Jay, please,” she said, her turn to entreat. Sweat slicked her brow and her skin burned and need coiled tighter and tighter, bending her to its will.

Though she didn’t know where it had come from or how he’d gotten it on without her noticing, Jay was suddenly sheathed in a condom and poised between her legs, nudging her entrance.

Breathing heavily, desperate for him, she looked up and the image he made would no doubt forever be burned into her memory. He was absolutely glorious. Curly lashes drooping low over his heavy-lidded eyes, the fine line of his shoulder as it elongated into his muscled arms, his chest a masculine work of art. He was splendidly made, Charlie thought.

And for the moment,
hers.

Feeling an undeniable surge of possessiveness, she lifted her hips and rubbed herself against him, sucked a harsh breath between her teeth as pleasure bloomed through her, then scored his chest lightly with her fingernails.

As though she’d flipped some sort of unseen switch, he set his jaw and plunged into her, seating himself to the hilt. A fleeting expression raced across his face too fast for her to translate, but whatever it was triggered an almost primal response in him.

His lips peeled away from his teeth, a guttural growl tore from his throat and he clasped her hips, lifted her off the mattress and plunged into her repeatedly. It was hot and hard and frantic and, unlike the marathon of evenly paced foreplay, this was a sprint that he was determined to win.

He took her as if the hounds of hell were riding his ass, and if he looked back or stopped for a breath, he’d surely die.

Fine,
Charlie thought.
I’ll run with him.
She anchored her legs around his back and matched his rhythm, tightening her feminine muscles around him as he withdrew, trying to hold on to him, to keep him inside her. She clung to him, held him as close as she could, her nipples abrading his chest with each frenzied thrust. She licked his neck, sucked his shoulder, ran her hands all over his body, relishing the feel of his hot skin beneath her greedy palms. She loved the way he felt, how he made
her
feel—desired and special, mysterious and unique. As if she was the most interesting thing in his world, and when he was with her, she was all that existed.

Heady stuff, that.

He pushed harder, his breathing ragged. His tight balls slapped at her sensitive flesh as he hammered into her, a pleasant sting that accompanied his every thrust.

The orgasm caught her completely unaware—one moment she was determined to hold on to him, to keep running this insane race—and the next she was free-falling through sensation, high on utter bliss.

Her heart expanded so much in her chest she felt it lodge in her throat, and the emotion that came with it was bittersweet and so extraordinary it made her eyes water.

It didn’t matter if she never saw him again after this was over, Charlie thought. He’d always have a piece of her…whether he wanted it or not.

HE’D WANTED HER ENOUGH to say please, Jay thought as Charlie’s tight body clung and fisted around his. That should have been warning enough, should have tipped him off that he’d waded too far in over his head.

But that was the thing about drowning, wasn’t it? A person didn’t realize it was happening until it was too damned late.

She kissed his shoulder, her hot mouth sliding over his skin, downy soft and moist. Honestly, did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How she’d somehow managed to make him beg to bed her when he’d only ever used
please
as a courtesy, never as a plea?

She’d hesitated, he knew. He’d been able to feel it, sensed it even. But he’d had to make her want him, he’d had to win, and now, too late, he knew why she’d tried to hold her ground.

Because the minute he’d pushed inside her again, his own ground had abruptly vanished from beneath his feet.

Everything had shifted. Whatever it was between them had gone from being hot and insane to equally hot but emotionally compromised. With every frantic, frenzied thrust into her welcoming body he felt the bond between them strengthening, his desire to claim and protect pushing everything else out of the way. Good sense, reason, logic.

None of that mattered.

Only her. Only how she made him feel.

Honestly, he’d thought if he focused more on the sex—on bringing her release—he’d be able to flee the inescapable truth bearing down on him.

She wasn’t just his “special friend,” as she’d said…she was
special.

Unique, matchless, rare.

And though he couldn’t have met her at a more inopportune moment, he grimly suspected that he was going to have to have her.

Permanently.

The thought had no sooner flitted through his mind when release claimed him. He buried his toes into the mattress, lifted her up and dived deep, lodging himself as far into her as he could. His vision clouded, blackened, then refocused in Technicolor. He shuddered as sensation rocketed through him, leaving him weak and sated and undeniably hers.

And for the first time in his life, truly vulnerable.

He didn’t like that one damned bit.

14

CHARLIE WAS ALMOST thankful that everything went to hell in a handbasket mere minutes after she’d made it to her own room. Aggie roused the house with news that she’d received the first text message from the dognappers. It wasn’t the first digits of the account number as expected, but a time-stamped thirty-second-long video of Truffles.

“She’s alive!” Aggie cried, her face wreathed in a smile, her eyes watering with joy.

She was indeed, Charlie thought. It couldn’t be anything short of healthy to be arched up like that, making her contribution to fertilizing the earth, could it?

Jay grimaced comically, his expression a far cry from the sleepy-eyed look of sexual happiness she’d seen only minutes before. “Is it—”

“Yes,” Charlie confirmed. “It is.”

“Gross,” Jasmine said, peering over Aggie’s shoulder. “Oh, God! Look! She’s running around like she’s won the Doggy Poop of the Year Award or something.”

“She’s always done that,” Aggie said fondly, her throat sounding choked. “It’s charming, isn’t it?”

Yes, Charlie thought. The little dog was nothing short of adorable. She and Jay shared a look and he made a quick grimace of disgust then gave his head a shake, as though the happy dance didn’t make up for the fact that they’d just watched a dog poop. It was all she could do not to laugh. He suddenly stilled, his attention diverted to the lettering on the back of Jasmine’s T-shirt. She felt him go on point, completely alert, and his gaze swung immediately back to hers. He glanced significantly at her, then cleared his throat.

“The Pancake Palace and Tattoo Parlor?” Jay remarked, laughing. “That’s an interesting combination.”

Jasmine smiled up at him, blatantly flirting. “It’s an interesting place.”

He played along. A little too well if you asked Charlie. “Want to see my ink?”

At Jasmine’s nod, he lifted the sleeve of his shirt, revealing an orange and red bird rising out of a nest of flames. It was beautifully done, eminently significant—he wouldn’t have put it on his body otherwise—and she didn’t know how on earth she’d missed it.

“It’s a phoenix,” he said.

“It looks new,” Jasmine remarked, sounding impressed.

His gaze skittered to Charlie’s, then darted away. “It is. I’ve only had it a few months. What about you? Have you got any ink?”

She turned and lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal two crossed fishhooks along with a man’s name and dates of birth and death.

Her father, Charlie realized. The shirt, the bobber, an unobstructed view of the backyard. In a nanosecond she realized why the block letters on the ransom note had been niggling at her—some of them had been cut out from the pamphlet that Burt had given her.

Charlie didn’t know why—though she’d find out soon enough—but Jasmine had definitely had something to do with taking Truffles.

“William Harris,” Jay read, shooting Jasmine a questioning look.

“He was my father.”

Jay winced. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Burt’s kind of taken me under his wing.”

So she’d kidnapped the dog for Burt? Because she thought he’d been slighted by Marigold? But why ask for so much?

Fuck it, Charlie thought. She knew where to get the answers. Though she didn’t think she’d telegraphed her intent, Jay gave Aggie a little nudge out of the way, leaving a better path for the kick she abruptly swept in Jasmine’s direction.

The girl dropped like a stone, the breath whooshing out of her as her back hit the kitchen floor. Smokey stood so fast his chair fell, Aggie screamed and put a hand to her throat and Jay put himself between Jasmine and the door.

Charlie dropped to her knees, straddling Jasmine, and grabbed her wrist until she screamed. “Listen to me,” Charlie told her, her tone lethal. “You are going to get one opportunity to tell me the truth—just one,” she emphasized. “And if you don’t do it I’m going to hurt you in ways you’ve never imagined. Do I make myself clear?”

Jasmine’s panicked gaze darted around the kitchen. “Get her off of me! She’s attacking me!”

“No, I’m subduing you,” Charlie told her. She smiled without humor. “You’ll know when I attack. Where’s Truffles?”

Jasmine whimpered, looked away. “I don’t know.”

Charlie applied more pressure.

“I don’t know!” she screamed, thrashing wildly. “Really! I gave her to Andrew! He’s g-got her,” she sobbed.

She and Jay shared a look. “Did you see any evidence of the dog when you were over there?”