Kaleidoscope Page 12

“I’m good… ish.”

  He fought back another grin then demanded to know, “Explain the ish part.”

  “Dane.”

  It was definitely time to get conversation about that moron over and done with. So Deck sighed, turned them, rested back against the counter and pulled her close so her body was resting on his. She allowed it and he spoke.

  “I know you’ve heard this more than once but I can’t talk about my work.”

  She opened her mouth. He shook his head.

  “Give me a second, Emme.”

  She shut her mouth.

  “Within a day, you’d decided to break up with him. You weren’t broken up about it. You hadn’t been seein’ him long. You were more worried about workin’ with him once it was over than hurtin’ his feelings or nursing your own hurt. You weren’t sure. You were right not to be sure. You were gonna end it. I was workin’ on ending other things for him. So even if I could have talked, for you, there was nothin’ I could say. If you were in deep with him, that would have been different. But straight up that first night you stated you weren’t. Fifteen hours later, you were done with him. You did my job for me ’cause knowin’ what I knew and not likin’ the guy even if he wasn’t a felon, I intended to make you done with him. Either way, it got done. In other words, baby, this point is moot.”

  She held his eyes then she looked to his sweater. Seconds later, she collapsed into him. Her weight pressing deep, her forehead to his chest, she pulled in a breath that hitched and his arms got tighter.

  “Emme,” he whispered.

  “He was creepy because he’s creepy,” she told his chest, her head jerked back and she cried, “That boy shot himself because of stuff Dane’s involved in! And I slept with him!”

  Deck was having great difficulty dealing with talking about this guy, knowing McFarland had her and had her recently.

  For Emme, he pulled it together to keep dealing and lifted a hand to her hair.

  He slid his fingers through it and murmured, “You sensed it, you were gonna end it. Now it’s all done, honey.”

  She shook her head even as it drifted to the side, stammering, “I… I…” She looked back to him. “That’s gross, Jacob.”

  “He’s a good-looking guy, Emme. Lots of women would go there. He’s a dick. He’s a criminal. He’s a liar. And I learned tonight he’s shit in bed. But none of that is on you. You felt it. You were making moves to end it.”

  “You don’t think this reflects on me?” she asked.

  “I don’t think you should care what people think,” he answered.

  “I don’t care what people think. I’m asking you because I care what you think.”

  That meant so much to him, his frame froze solid.

  She was detached and had always been that way. Her cadre was small and tight and she didn’t often let people in.

  But even if she let you in, even though she was warm and affectionate, it was strange, but she still somehow managed to be distant. Therefore, not always, but sometimes with Emme, you had to search for clues that something you said or did meant something. And since he told her where he was going to take them, he’d been searching. She gave it to him, but he’d also had to look for it.

  Except when she told him she missed him, wanted the change in their relationship and, just now, telling him she gave a shit about what he thought.

  “So, do you think this reflects on me?” she pushed, feeling the tenseness in his body, her eyes filling with concern she didn’t hide.

  He forced his body to relax.

  “I think you traded up and that works for me,” he answered and moved to conclude discussion about fucking McFarland by saying with finality, “That’s what I think.”

  She studied him a moment before her body melted against his and she smiled, the dimple appearing.

  Fucking finally.

  “Now can I eat my sandwich?” he asked on a grin.

  “I saw the kaleidoscope by your bed,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back.

  “Just now and when I spent the night before.”

  “Yeah,” he repeated.

  “I wasn’t a mark.”

  Irritation flashed and he gave her a warning squeeze. “Emme, I told you—”

  She cut him off, “Just my way of saying I’m sorry, honey. I should have thought about that before and known I was wrong. I just,” she shrugged, “got bad news, reacted and by that I mean flew off the handle. I’m sorry I put you to trouble and lost it with you.” Her head tipped and her eyes lit. “Though, maybe not so sorry, considering how that concluded.”

  He’d been worried for hours.

  He’d just had his girl, gave her her first orgasm during sex and now they were cool.

  So he was over it.

  Before he could tell her this, Emme rolled up on her toes, touched her mouth to his, pulled back and asked, “Now, do you take mayo or what?”

  Deck looked into her now just inquisitive eyes a second before he burst out laughing.

  After he was done, he saw her smiling at him, gave her brief kiss getting a hint of the strawberry of her hair as he did it and liking it. He set her away from him and grabbed the mayo in answer to her question.

  He went to the sandwich.

  She went out of the open kitchen and he watched her walk to her clothes on the couch.

  Then he watched her pick them up and start heading toward his room, Buford following her.

  “Emme, where you goin’?”

  She turned and looked at him. “Getting dressed then going home.”

  He stopped squirting mayo and felt his eyes narrow. “Babe, just put Cletus in the garage.”

  “Sorry, right, you probably didn’t have to do that. And her name is Persephone.”

  Deck ignored that and stated, “You’re spendin’ the night here.”

  Her head tipped to the side. “Why? Dane’s behind bars so I’m safe to go home.”

  Why?

  “Emme, you’re not spendin’ the night here because I want you safe from McFarland. You’re spending the night here because I want you in my bed.”

  Her body froze.

  “Oh,” she mouthed as he saw her lips form the word but he didn’t hear it.

  Cute.

  Little experience and no man had even made her come.

  It was up to him to get in there and teach her. Something he liked. Something he looked forward to.

  Something he was starting now.

  “Have you had dinner?” he asked.

  “I was too angry to eat. I thought I would, well…” she threw out a hand, “get something when I got home.”

  “You’re not goin’ home so get something here.”

  She stood there unmoving before she said, “Okay,” and moved.

  Buford followed her.

  He probably liked the smell of strawberries too.

  She dumped her clothes on the couch, made a sandwich and slid on a stool beside him at the bar.

  He swallowed his bite, looked at her and asked gently, “Is my girl good?”

  She had her sandwich to her mouth. She took it away, looked at him and replied, “Your girl’s good, honey.”

  “Good,” he muttered, bent in, touched his mouth to hers before she took a bite and he went back to the remnants of his sandwich.

  Chapter Eight

  Girl Posse

  I slid up and on the downward glide I knew it was coming.

  And like last night, both before and after sandwiches, it took me by surprise.

  But this time, I was riding Jacob so I didn’t know what to do while riding a man and having an orgasm.

  In the end, I couldn’t do anything but what my body told me to do.

  And that was slam down hard on his cock and feel it pulse through me, radiating everywhere, shaking me through and through so intensely I arched back and had to brace myself by curling a hand around his thick, hard thigh.

  So totally better than self-induced it wasn’t fu
nny.

  “Baby, do not fuckin’ stop,” Jacob growled, his hands on my hips coaxing but I was too far gone.

  So far, I barely felt Jacob sit up but I did feel his thigh come up as he cocked his knees. Then I had an arm around my waist pulling me up and slamming me down.

  My head tipped down and I lifted my eyelids as far as they would go, which was about a quarter of the way up.

  “Honey,” I breathed as he pulled me up and slammed me back down.

  That felt good and a low sound escaped my throat, I lifted my hands to his shoulders, used them as leverage and took over.

  “Thank fuck,” he muttered but didn’t release my waist.

  “This is fun,” I whispered, sounding slightly surprised, moving on him fast and hard.

  “It’ll be more fun you take me there, like, soon,” he replied.

  Wasn’t I doing it right?

  I bit my lip and grew uncertain.

  Jacob’s eyes narrowed on my lip.

  A second later I was on my back in his bed, he was pounding deep and he had a hand between us, thumb pressed to my clit and one could just say he knew how to use his thumb.

  “Jacob!” I gasped.

  “Now this,” he grunted as he thrust, “this, baby, is fun.”

  He could say that again.

  He didn’t.

  He kissed me.

  I came again a few seconds later.

  Then he did the same a minute after that.

  * * *

  “We gotta go, honey. You have insulation to install and I have chips to pour into bowls,” I said after Jacob got back from the bathroom, rejoined me in bed, settled on his back and cuddled me close to his side.

  “We can eat them out of bags,” he replied.

  “Okay, then I have a fridge to check and make sure it’s working, and if it’s not, I have beer to shove in snow to make it cold.”

  His body shook with silent laughter before his arm got tight when I tried to pull away. “In a minute.”

  “Jacob—”

  “I like this.”

  I did too.

  And I liked it that he liked it. Jacob Decker, my friend reunited, now my lover (and a great one), wanting to cuddle in bed after sex with me.

  But this being Jacob, all he was and all he was to me, that made it even better.

  So I settled in.

  The one good part about Dane was that he liked to spend the night with me. Sex with him had its moments, none culminating, but there were moments. But sleeping with him was always nice. He was also a cuddler and I liked that too.

  My only lover before him, Jerry, cuddled a bit after but always went home to his own bed or expected me to go home to mine. I’d had him while Jacob was with Elsbeth but he never met anyone because he didn’t last long and it never got serious.

  Between Jerry and Dane, a long dry spell that was okay by me.

  Jacob, too, was a cuddler, but with his long frame, it being so big, and his innate bossiness, it was different than Dane. Dane spooned but if I moved, he let me go my own way. Jacob slept and I slept with him however that came about. I moved, he moved me back or moved into me (mostly moved me back). If he moved, he took me with him.

  It was weird and it didn’t sound like it would be good.

  But since he was Jacob, all he was and all he was to me, it was fantastic.

  Thinking these thoughts led me to thinking that switching creepy, the-only-thing-good-about-him-was-cuddling-and-he-could-be-sweet, felonious Dane right away with everything-was-good-about-him-except-he-was-sometimes-bossy Jacob didn’t suck.

  This thought was so funny that me, me, Emmanuelle Holmes, thirty-four years old and only having two short-term boyfriends moved right from one guy, felonious or not, to another, and traded up to one who was hotter, nicer, funnier, smarter, richer and had the capacity to give orgasms every time (sometimes two!) made me start giggling.

  “What?” Jacob asked.

  “Nothing,” I choked out through giggles.

  Jacob’s hand came to my chin and gently forced it up so he could catch my eyes.

  His were smiling.

  “What?” he repeated.

  “I’m a slut,” I announced, still giggling but harder now. It was full-blown laughter. “In the blink of an eye I go from a felon to a mysterious crimefighter or whatever you are.” I started laughing so hard I hiccoughed and pushed out, “Trading up.”

  My laughter only started to die down when I noticed Jacob’s eyes were no longer smiling.

  “What?” I asked when I got control of my hilarity.

  “Been cool about that Emme, but heads up, that cool ends now. I may have found you again when you were with him but I didn’t like him from the start. Ten minutes later I found out there was a lot not to like. And now the only good part about you bein’ with him is that you were smart enough not to get too deep and he’s gone. But I don’t find it funny.”

  I sobered immediately and whispered, “Sorry.”

  “And you’re not a slut,” he stated. “A woman who’s never had a man make her come, except one, the one she’s currently in bed with, is, by definition, not a slut.”

  “Okay,” I agreed quickly, mostly because of the look on his face and his tone.

  Normally, I would have begged to differ, seeing as I had a nonexclusive boyfriend I had yet to officially break up with and I was currently naked in bed with Jacob which I thought, by definition, nonexclusive or not, was pretty slutty. But I was sensing (accurately) that now was not the time to debate that point.

  Then again, the look on his face, it was more likely never would there be time to debate that point.

  “We might have to talk about him seein’ as you’re a witness, him givin’ you that ring. So, they don’t confess, that shit goes to trial, this isn’t done for you. But, if we’re not talkin’ about the case—not him, the case—he doesn’t come up at all. You with me?”

  I was with him. This annoyed him. So Jacob could be seriously bossy and bossily serious, the second one when discussing my criminal, very-soon-to-be official ex-boyfriend.

  So I should likely avoid that.

  “I can do that,” I told him.

  “Good,” he muttered.

  “You heat your pool,” I blurted to change the subject, and his brows drew together.

  “What?”

  “You say I heat my mountain. You heat yours too,” I informed him.

  “Yeah. Difference is, I got the money to afford it.”

  Him having his big mostly mansion that had nothing to fix and was all perfect, I figured he was not wrong.

  “It’s environmentally unconscious,” I pointed out.

  He stared at me then pressed his head back into the pillows and looked at the headboard, muttering, “Here we go.”

  “It is,” I pushed.

  He looked back at me. “Babe, I don’t give a fuck.”

  “Well, I do. You should turn off the heat when you’re not using it.”

  “I turn off the heat, I want to use it, it takes hours to heat it, by that time I’m over wantin’ to use it.”

  “Then you should put a cover on it,” I went on.

  “It doesn’t look as good with a cover on it,” he replied, and I felt my brows go up even as I pushed up and glared down at him.

  “You’re destroying the environment for cosmetic purposes?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered indifferently.

  “That’s irresponsible.”

  “It’s my money.”

  “You’re a citizen of this earth just like me, Jacob Decker. It isn’t about money. You’re accountable to future generations.”

  He grinned. “That’s a lot of folks, Emmanuelle. I hope I die before they incarcerate me for my pool heating irresponsibility and I have to stand trial in front of an angry environmental mob.”

  I hated it about as much as I loved it (the second part after it was over, of course), when Jacob started teasing when we were debating.

  But while
we were doing, it was all about hating it.

  “Don’t be flippant,” I snapped.

  “I’m not. I’m just waitin’ for you to want to use the pool and then you won’t be bitchin’ about it bein’ heated.”

  “A cover is a good compromise,” I noted.

  “Not if I don’t like the way it looks.”

  I shut up and stared at him, knowing he was enjoying this. Therefore it could go on for hours as it had in the past, so I would get nowhere, which was where I got in the past.

  Therefore, when I spoke again it was to say, “Let’s not argue.”

  Suddenly, he rolled me so he was pressed into my side and also on me and his handsome, morning-stubbled face was close.

  God, he was beautiful. His weight was heavy, his body strong, warm. And those eyelashes.

  Amazing.

  “No, baby,” he murmured, lips tipped up. “Let’s argue so we can make up.”

  This gave an interesting slant to our sometimes-heated debates that I suddenly had a hankering to try out.

  His body started shaking but before I could see his laughter on his face, his head dipped and he ran his lips up my jaw to my ear.

  “I gotta get my girl in the shower so I can get her home and install her insulation.”

  My breath was coming fast but I still managed to say, “Buford’s riding with me.”

  His head came up. “You’re riding with me and Buford’s stayin’ here. He gets out there and catches a scent of something in those woods around your house, we won’t see him for a year.”

  My head cocked on the pillow. “Really?”

  “He’s a bloodhound, Emme. Yeah. Really.”

  “So does that mean he can never come over?”

  “No, that means he can’t come over when I’m installing insulation and can’t pay attention to what he’s doin’ when he’s out.”

  “Oh.”

  Jacob grinned. “Love it that you like my dog.”

  I looked to the side and saw Buford’s paws stretched out on the floor by Jacob’s side of the bed, the rest of him I couldn’t see. He’d ceased his bed-hogging activities when Jacob woke me up to make love to me. Now he appeared to be taking a snooze.

  I looked back at Jacob.

  “He’s likable.”

  He grinned, bent his head and kissed me. He didn’t do it long but it tasted and felt fantastic. Kind of like the first time (and all the times besides) except without me losing my mind and my control and having the best sex of my life (by far).