Blind: Killer Instincts (8 page)

She ran warm water over her hands to chase the chills away.

If only she’d met Jacob another way, another time, maybe things would be different.

But who was she kidding? A man like him had no reason to want her for anything other than a good time. He had a career, probably went to school, and he had his shit together. She was living out of boxes, had barely passed high school, and all three of her jobs depended on her physical abilities. They were completely different people. Totally wrong for each other. But they had two things in common: a shared history, and a lust as palpable as the meal she’d eaten.

Emma was hard-wired for relationships. It was a fact. There was no fooling herself about the future here. A night, that’s all this was. The banter was just talk. There weren’t more dates, he wasn’t interested in her beyond what she could give him, and really, she didn’t need another boyfriend right now. She needed to be on her own.

Emma shook the water droplets off her hands and dried them before exiting the bathroom. The table was cleared off, and Jacob was in his cozy, country kitchen, leaning into the refrigerator.

One night. That’s all this was.

She added a little sway to her hips as she rounded the bar, and Jacob turned to face her.

The dishes from dinner were gone, the counters cleared except for a gallon of Blue Bell ice cream and a spoon.

“Hope you like vanilla.” He dug a spoonful from the carton and held it out toward her.

“Mm.” Emma leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the chilled metal, holding Jacob’s gaze as she slowly licked the frosty treat off the spoon.

His gaze narrowed, focused on her lips. She licked them just to see what he’d do.

Jacob’s lips compressed into a tight line and he spooned up another bite of ice cream, shoving it in his mouth before neatly selecting a smaller bit and offering it to her. Blue Bell had to be about the best ice cream on the planet. It melted on her tongue all rich and creamy, which made it completely understandable to groan in the sheer pleasure of tasting it.

He stabbed the spoon in the gallon and captured her face between his hands.

About damn time.

He pressed her back against the island, his hips pinning her in place. Though his hold was fierce, he slowly lowered his face to hers. Was he giving her an out? Or slowing down?

She strained toward him and finally—finally—their lips touched. The ice cream flavored the kiss and his hot mouth warmed her cold lips. She twined her arms around his neck, through his hair.

He lifted her and set her on the counter with ease. She liked a man who could toss her around like that, it was a definite turn-on. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him back against her body, letting her hands rove over him.

“You should tell me to stop,” he whispered against her cheek.

“Why the hell would I do that? Am I going to catch something from you? Any unwanted party favors?”

“What? You mean a STD or STI?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

She shrugged. “Lucky for you I got my latest results in. Clean and on the pill. I’ll ask again, why should I tell you to stop?”

“You should.” There was a tortured twist to his voice that tugged at her heart.

“Then you shouldn’t have invited me over, because I don’t run.” She slipped her hands up under his shirt, relishing the feel of his hard body under her palm. He’d taken her by surprise last night, and she hadn’t been able to really appreciate him.

“Damn it, Emma, this isn’t a good idea.” He pushed himself backward, breaking her hold on him.

“What the fuck?” He had to have known, after last night, what would happen if they were in the same room again.

He gripped the edge of the countertop as if it were his life-line.

She shoved off the island and planted her hands on her hips.

“I really didn’t invite you over for more than food,” he said.

“Okay, lie to yourself if it makes you feel better.” She rolled her eyes and walked toward the dining table and her purse. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t beg.

“Wait.” He caught her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks.

“What, Jacob? You want me, then you don’t. Shit. I don’t play these fucking games.” She twisted her arm in his hold, and he actually let her go.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You’re pretty damn confusing for a dude.”

“I know.” He gripped the counter again, his gaze searching her face for—something.

Emma couldn’t tell what was going on in his head. Something bothered him, but she didn’t know if it was her, or them, or maybe it was just sex. Some people were weird about it.

For some crazy reason she wanted to ease this burden weighing him down. Give him a reason to smile. But if he was determined to wallow, that was all on him.

“Look, it’s not you—”

“Oh please, don’t give me the ‘It’s not you; it’s me,’ line.” She rolled her eyes.

“Emma.”

“What? What is so damn bad about me? Or are you that complicated?” She stalked to the table and snatched up her purse.

Jacob followed her, blocking her path. His gaze was shuttered, lines bracketing his mouth and marring his brow. She wanted to reach out and smooth the imperfections away, kiss his mouth until he smiled again because he didn’t seem to do that enough, but he wasn’t her responsibility. She didn’t have to care about him, even though she wanted to for some fucked up reason.

“I don’t...want to—hurt—you.”

She stared at him, running the sentence through her head. Well fuck.

“Is this about the anger management issues?”

He nodded.

“So what? You get angry during sex and smack a girl around or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” he blurted, slashing his hand through the air.

“Then what? What’s so horrible you’re pushing me away and lying to yourself? You knew this would be more than dinner. You’re a smart guy. At least I think you are. Even you should be able to feel chemistry.”

“Fuck.” He shoved a hand through his hair.

Was he going to pull it together? Or should she leave now and figure out where her vibrator was?

“You said that already.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I get—rough.”

Rough sex? That was what this was about?

“Is that it?” She dropped her purse on the table. “You do know I’m a mechanic, and I race dirt bikes, right?”

“Yeah.”

She closed the space between them and looped her arms around his neck. “I don’t know what kind of girls you’ve been with before, but I don’t mind a few bruises if the sex is good.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering until she felt him relax a bit.

“I’ve scared others,” he mumbled.

“Did they tell you to stop?”

“No.”

“Would you have if they told you?”

“Of course.” He jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

“Hey, I’m just asking.” She pulled him once more into her embrace. “I don’t know what kind of porcelain dolls you’ve been fucking, but I think you need a new type, Detective.”

“What type would that be?” He dropped his head until their brows rested against each other.

Me.

The whisper in her head was her voice, but it scared her. She had no business being with a man like him. Her edges were rough, but so were his.

She laid her finger over his mouth. “You talk too much, anyone ever told you that?”

He shook his head.

First time for everything.

Jacob moved so fast that one moment she was standing, the next he’d picked her up, crossed to the dining table, and sat her down on the edge so hard her teeth clicked together. A surge of adrenaline flooded her system, and for a second she hovered between the edge of fear and excitement. He loomed over her, hands around her wrists, holding her palms to the table.

Oh, hello there.

She chuckled, the sound deep and husky in her throat. Someone’s bad side was coming out to play. She let her flip-flops fall to the floor and curled one leg around his thigh.

The hard lines on his face hadn’t eased, but neither had he moved. Was he waiting for her to fear him? Was this his attempt to intimidate her? She hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t run. Besides, scary wasn’t the word she’d use to describe him right now.

Emma arched her back and strained against his hold, but he remained out of her reach. He held her there for a moment, completely in control. She wasn’t the kind of girl who craved a man to dominate her, but there was something about a hot, in-control guy that pressed all her buttons.

He let her wiggle her hands from his grasp. She grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugged it up, and worked it over his head and shoulders without his help. He seemed frozen to the spot, which was fine by her. There was plenty of him to explore and touch.

She kissed his cheek and down his neck while she acquainted herself with the dips and curves of his chest and all those sleek muscles. He had a body honed from use, not one of those muscle-bound gym bodies. Later she’d have to become more intimately introduced. Now, she needed to give him a little motivation.

He wanted to play rough? Well, she could do that.

Emma gently bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder as she dug her nails into his pecs and raked them down.

Jacob sucked in a deep breath. She let go and smoothed her hands over the nail tracks. He dug his hand into her hair, wrenching her head back and taking her mouth. He nipped her lower lip and thrust his tongue into her mouth. The flavor of the ice cream was a distant memory, but she moaned at the taste of him.

Her pulse thundered in her veins and her nipples tightened, not to mention the state of her panties.

His stubble rasped over her cheek as he pulled her head farther back, exposing the column of her throat. He supported her weight with his other hand under her back and bent over her, lavishing her throat and shoulder with kisses and little nips of his teeth. Slowly, he lowered her to the hard surface.

Jacob stared down at her and she glimpsed some of the wildness in his gaze, but she was fluent in wild and crazy. It was his lucky fucking day.

He grabbed the neck of her tank top and pulled, and the fabric came apart as if it were tissue paper, ripping straight down the front. She gaped at him, but he was already pulling her bra down, freeing her breasts and palming her.

Okay, that was hot. She’d never had her clothes literally ripped off her before.

He massaged her breasts, capturing the stiff peaks between his fingers and rolling them. She hissed and arched her back, hooking her other leg around him. He pushed her breasts together and licked one nipple, then the other. She groaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug. He growled against her skin and scraped his teeth over her sensitive flesh as he switched breasts.

“Oh, fuck, do that,” she muttered. Teeth and boobs—who would have known that felt good?

He bit down harder, and her internal muscles clenched.

“Mm, yeah.” She scraped her nails over his shoulders, arching her back.

The man had a talented mouth, that was for sure.

She reached between them and palmed the front of his jeans. His whole body went rigid, and for a moment he didn’t move. She could feel his breath against her breasts, but he didn’t move, so she pressed harder.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the table once more, surging up over her body to press her flat and kissing her so deeply she could barely breathe.

“I want to be in you,” he said in a ragged whisper.

Jacob released one of her wrists, but she still felt the implied command in her bones.

Don’t move.

His fingers dragged over her ribs, down her hips, and between her legs. He panted against her lips as he pushed her panties aside and plunged a finger into her channel.

“Christ,” he groaned.

“Mm. Condom?”

“Fuck,” he snarled.

Emma groped for her purse, which had been shoved down the table. She grabbed the strap and pulled it closer, fishing out a condom from the side pocket. People could call her a slut if they wanted to for carrying her own protection, but she was a woman with needs that were about to be met.

Jacob chuckled and kissed her cheek as she ripped the package open. “You are an angel.”

“No, I’m just horny.”

She tabbed his jeans open and lowered the zipper, careful of the erection straining toward her.

“Are you going to put it on me?” he asked.

“Do you have a problem with that?”

He flashed her a too-brief smile. “No.”

He shoved his jeans and underwear down, kicking out of his clothes until he was gloriously nude. The glimpses she got of his body proved that he was a man of action, with the scars to back up what he did. Another time she’d ask him about them, kiss each one.

Jacob grabbed her skirt and panties and tugged them down. She lifted up enough for him to divest her of the hindering garments and shrugged off the ruined top and bra herself. She grabbed the condom and reached for him. He braced himself with his hands on either side of her thighs.

It was happening too fast for her to be nervous. There was a deep, driving need pushing her, urging her on.

She grasped his cock, pumping the smooth, velvety flesh in her palm.

Jacob grabbed her chin and kissed her, thrusting into her hold. He broke the kiss, leaving her gasping.

Emma lost no time in rolling the latex on his hard length. She’d enjoy this.

He pushed her hands away and passed the head of his cock through her folds, coating himself with her arousal. She planted her hands on the table and let her head drop back on her shoulders, surrendering herself to the sensations. Her body trembled—it had been too long since she felt a man’s touch, even longer still since she’d enjoyed it.

“Emma,” he whispered.

She lifted her head and met his gaze, staring into the black pits. It felt as if she could see straight through to his soul, that tortured, battered beast inside of him that he thought needed to be contained, controlled. It looked an awful lot like her own inner darkness.

Jacob grasped her hips and thrust. They each gasped as he slid inside of her. He pressed deeper, and she gripped the edge of the table as her body stretched and adjusted around his girth.