Page 32 of Jasmine Street Blues

He led Bubbles onto the back porch and closed the doggie door. Then he looked at her. Oh, those eyes…

“Nothing is going to stop us tonight. No pirate, no mutt, nothing.”

Loran reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him close. Before she went up on her toes to kiss him she whispered, “Good.”

10

A trail of discarded clothes led from the kitchen, to the hallway, past the hall bathroom, into Mac’s bedroom. By the time they reached the bed they were both naked. Loran wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened, and she didn’t care. She was here, with him, living for the first time in years.

His hands explored and so did hers. A light touch, a learning of one another in the most basic way. Mac was hard, muscled, bigger than life when he was so close he was almost a part of her. For a woman who was too often skittish, she really should be wary of him. But she wasn’t. She was supposed to be here, she knew it to the core of her being, and she trusted this man with her body, with her life.

His skin against hers, the heat, the intimacy of it, was heaven. It was everything she’d wanted from this night, everything she needed from the man who held her. Well, almost everything. They’d been drawn together in a way she’d been foolish to deny, and now they were mouth to mouth, chest to chest. As they fell to the bed their legs entwined. She couldn’t get close enough.

“You surprised me,” Mac whispered as he ran his hand down her side. “You came out of nowhere and turned me upside down and inside out.”

“Ditto,” she said, reaching for him as he reached for the protection he’d placed on his bedside table.

She stroked him; he stroked her. Neither of them had words, as they finally came together. He pushed inside her slowly, easy, completely. When they were joined Loran took a long moment to savor the feeling. Had she ever felt this way before? Not that she could remember. Had she ever wanted anything, anyone, as much as she wanted Mac? No. She could barely think, but she did comprehend that much.

And then there was nothing but this, their bodies searching for release and connection and pleasure. More than that, as she moved Loran realized she was searching for more. As wonderful as this moment was, she wanted more.

Love. Love that had eluded her, or hurt her, or slipped through her fingers.

She couldn’t let her mind go there. A woman who couldn’t stay didn’t dare to fall in love. A woman who had a history of lighting out in the middle of the night when things got dicey didn’t dare get too comfortable. Best to focus entirely on the physical, on the way Mac brought her to the edge of release and back again. This was all she could have, and it was enough. More than enough.

All rational thought slipped from her mind and she allowed herself to simply feel. Touch. Pleasure. Primal connection.

Mac drove deep and she shattered; she held her breath, shook as wave after wave washed over her. She couldn’t silence the noise that broke from her throat, when she was able to breathe again. The rasp wasn’t a scream, exactly, but it was new. She’d never lost herself so completely.

Mac came with her, moving fast and hard until they were both spent.

Only then did she hear Bubbles howling from the back porch. The sound made her laugh.

Mac growled at her. “You’re not supposed to laugh.”

She touched his face, trailed her fingers down his neck. “I’m laughing at poor Bubbles, not you.”

“Okay, then.” He kissed her before he rolled away. When he stood beside the bed, naked, vulnerable, breathtaking, he looked down at her. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She didn’t intend to. At least, not right now… Not yet…

* * *

Mac couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with a woman. Sex, yes. Sleeping? No. That required a level of trust he’d lost a long time ago.

Sleeping with Loran was comfortable. It felt natural, as if they’d always been together.

Always? He hadn’t known her two weeks, and always was a lie.

Here he was, moving too fast again, letting his dick lead the way. Why now? Answers about Carrie teased him. Even though he had no solid leads, he felt closer to actual forward movement than he had in years. Loran’s painting had turned him in a new direction and given him hope. Personally she was a distraction he didn’t need, and yet he couldn’t let her go.

She squirmed a little in her sleep, rubbing her body against his. It felt good. Too good. He wanted her again, and again, and again.

Loran woke slowly, but she didn’t appear to be surprised to be in his bed instead of her own. Her arms draped around him; she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his neck. Those lips moved and any second thoughts he might’ve had in his waking moments melted away. All control flew out the window.

“I didn’t see you coming,” she whispered.

“Ditto.”