Believe in Me

CHAPTER 3

Tori grabbed her bag, tossed more than enough cash to cover their meal onto the table, shot out of her seat, and ran like hell. She couldn't do this. She could not do this.

He caught her on the street, of course. Jericho had never been one to let anything go. His fingers wrapped tight around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop and forcing her to face him. She kept her gaze pinned to his chest, grating out as few words as possible. «I need to go home.»

She felt his gaze move over her, studying her-her face, her eyes, her breasts beneath the serviceable top she wore, her white-knuckled grip on the handle of her purse. «Fine. I'll walk you.»

Shifting his inexorable grip, he steered her toward the small bed and breakfast inn she owned-or, at least, the angelic woo-woo of her cover identity meant people thought she owned it and had owned it for years and years. Thankfully, it was close to the town square, which the diner faced. They didn't have far to go. Still, she was painfully aware of his hand on her skin as they walked through the square. She hated herself for being unable to squelch her reaction. She wanted to run screaming, she wanted to tackle him to the ground and do filthy things to his body. She wanted to beat him to a pulp for hurting her and ruining her one chance at happiness. She did none of those things-the town gossip didn't make gossip for other people to spread around.

His hand on her elbow would look like nothing more than polite and solicitous assistance to an elderly lady, but the rough calluses on his fingertips rubbed in slow circles against her arm. Goose bumps raced over her limbs again and she shivered, her nipples tightening to painful points. She hadn't been this turned on in over a century. Not since the last time he'd touched her.

She turned her head to meet his gaze squarely, unflinching. «While we walk, let's discuss Mason and Celia. Then I'd like us to have as little contact as possible until this is over.»

Again, she felt him study her, but she refused to be discomfited by him. He faced forward. «We should definitely talk about the assignment.»

«Okay. Good.» Relief that he didn't push the subject of their interactions, past or future, made the air squeeze out of her lungs.

«You've done a great job of steering Mason in the right direction, but it's obvious to anyone-including Celia-he's just looking to score. And get rid of what has to be a serious case of blue balls.»

She choked, and a laugh exploded out of her. Wrapping her arm around herself, she tried to hold in the shrieks of laughter and not drop her purse. Hilarity made her voice shake. «I cannot believe you said that.»

A rich chuckle answered her, and she watched the lines crinkle around his eyes as his white teeth flashed in a wide smile. «The truth hurts.»

«Much like blue balls.»

His broad shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. «It's hard on a guy.»

«So I've heard.» She snorted on another chuckle. «I'll take your word on it.»

«They both have trust issues. They're wary. It's understandable, given their pasts.» His dark brows drew together, his focus turning inward for a moment. Then he sighed and his lips quirked in a small grin. «Which is pretty much the same old story for what we do.»

God, she loved his smile. She always had. He was freer with it now than he had been, which was good for him, and bad for her control. She'd always been a sucker for a man who could make her laugh. She slammed the brakes on that alarming and dangerous line of thought.

Jericho's breath caught. She shot a sharp glance at him in time to see him jerk his chin aside to stare at a tree as they passed another couple. She arched her eyebrows, but immediately recognized the chief of police and his wife, Aubrey. She smiled and nodded as they walked by, but the two were absorbed in each other and barely spared her a glance before they disappeared around a bend in the path.

«Your most recent conquest. Nicely done, by the way.» Her eyebrows lifted higher. «You're in a different disguise, Jericho. They won't recognize you.»

He grunted. «It's the eyes. No matter how many faces I wear, I've never gotten the eyes to change color.»

«And it's a distinctive color. That is a problem.»

«Not usually.» He shrugged. «I move around with my assignments, so I'm not in one place long enough for anyone to notice.»

True enough. Travel was the name of their game. «But you finished up with them, and there was a local project that fell in your lap.»

«Something like that.» Suddenly his eyes narrowed, flattening to a cold pewter. «You knew I was in town and you avoided me.»

Damn. Caught. She hurried her steps, heaving a sigh of intense relief as the inn came into view. She kept her voice light, her tone dismissive. «I gave you a hand. Not that the chief needed any urging, but when he asked about Aubrey's dating habits, I filled him in, encouraged him a little. I am the town gossip, you know. Information sharing is what I do. I also used the dachshund I was dog sitting for a friend to trip her up and get her carried into his house for their first date. You're welcome.»

«You avoided me.» The words shot from his mouth like bullets, and she felt his muscular body tense. He dragged her to a stop in front of the B&B.

«I had my own assignment to deal with. There was no need to interact with you, no need to draw attention to ourselves.» She set her jaw at a stubborn angle, daring him to refute her. His gaze heated with the challenge, and she almost groaned. Challenging Jericho was a mistake and she knew it. That was how she'd ended up flat on her back the night they'd met.

«Yes, there's no need to draw attention to ourselves. We shouldn't make a scene.» His hand lifted, and he stroked a single fingertip across her cheekbone, trailed it to her jaw, and down her throat, where she knew he could feel her pulse pounding. His movements were slow, giving her the chance to pull away. She didn't. God, she craved him. She always had, and it stabbed at her heart to realize she always would.

She swayed toward him, her brain short-circuiting as an image of them in the privacy of her bedroom, in her bed, formed and refused to leave.

«It's not working, acting as if this is about our job. I want you too much to pretend I haven't been hard since the moment you walked into the restaurant tonight. You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.» His voice dropped to a low, silken purr that stroked over her nerves, exciting her, soothing her.

Her eyes closed as his words washed over her, undermining all of her righteous bitterness. Whether she liked it or not, she reacted to this man. No one could make her angrier, faster. No one could make her hornier, faster. This many months of celibacy only made it that much harder to resist the magnetic pull he had on her by just standing there and breathing. When he said things like that to her, used that tone of voice, it made fire flood her.

Swallowing, she glanced away and squeezed her thighs together to quell the ache between them. It was a wasted effort. «We're in public, Jericho. Don't forget when people look at us, they see an old lady and a gay man.»

«Then let's go somewhere private because within the next five minutes you're going to be under me, whether we're in public or not.» That stroking finger moved over her lips before curving under her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze, the steely, relentless determination that shone there. «I want you stripped and spread for me. I want my tongue in your mouth while you scream and sigh and moan. I want your nails digging into my back when I slide into that tight, wet little pussy of yours. I want to fuck you until neither of us can stand. And then I'm really going to get started on you.»

She wanted that. All of that. So much that every other thought fled, her hormones rioted, her body overruling her mind.

They made it to the small guesthouse behind the inn that she used for her home before he had his hands all over her, but it was a close call. The door hadn't even swung shut before his mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust between her lips.

A moan ripped from her throat. He tasted the same-like honey and hot, wicked man. Like heaven on earth. Like Jericho. She twisted her fingers in his silky hair, holding him in place while she tangled her tongue with his. Her body burned, ached with emptiness, wetness flooding her core until she thought she might cry if he didn't fill her soon. She rocked herself against him in shameless abandon, her nails digging into his scalp as she sought to communicate her need. He groaned, but didn't slow down.

His palms slid over her back, one dipping down to cup her backside and lift her body into his. The rigid length of his cock rubbed against the juncture of her thighs. A low, choking cry issued from her throat, and she rose on tiptoe, wrapped one leg around his hip, and tried to ride his erection through both their pants. God, she craved him as much as she ever had. More. She ground herself against him in a desperate search for orgasm.

He made a rough, guttural noise, both hands on her ass, lifting her off her feet so she could twine her legs around his lean waist. Stumbling forward, he pressed her back to the wall and rolled his hips against hers, rubbing his cock right where she needed it. Stars burst behind her closed eyelids, pleasure swamping her in a rush. They still had all their clothes on and she was a heartbeat away from shattering.

She arched helplessly in his arms, her mouth ripping free of his as she writhed against him. «I'm so close, Jericho.»

«Not yet, Tori. Not yet.» He tugged at her legs, disentangling himself from her grip. She moaned a protest, her nails digging into his shoulders. His voice was a deep rasp in her ear, his accent thickening with his lust. «I want to be inside you when you come for me, darlin'. I want to feel it.»

A sob ripped from her throat, and she clutched at him, her head rolling on the wall. Lust slammed into her in waves that threatened to drown her. «Hurry.»

His hands were busy on the fly of her slacks, wrenching open the zipper and shoving them and her panties down her legs. He lifted her out of her loafers and braced her against the wall again. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips as she tried to keep her balance, but there was no balance to be had with Jericho. There never had been.

«I can't wait.» His words were little more than a breath of air against her lips before he claimed her mouth again. The smooth, hot head of his cock nudged against her slick folds. She had no idea when he'd unfastened his own pants, but she didn't have time to wonder as he slammed deep with one hard thrust. Her back bowed in reflex to the sudden invasion, the thickness of him painful after so many months of celibacy. But even the pain became a slicing, white-hot blade of pleasure. She screamed for him then, just as he'd wanted, the sound high, thin and wild, smothered by his mouth.

He pounded into her, his movements fast and rough and so damn exciting she knew she'd come in minutes, seconds. A sob caught in her throat at losing this connection so soon, emotion she didn't want to feel ripping at her control. His fingers bit into her ass as he hitched her higher against the wall, changed the angle of his penetration, made it even better for her. He hit her G-spot with every thrust, and his tongue still moved boldly in her mouth, his honeyed flavor assaulting her, his masculine scent filling her tortured lungs with every gasping breath.

He took every part of her and claimed it for himself.

One hand slipped inward, the fingers circling the tight bud of her anus. She moaned, shuddered, her heart hammering at the thought of him touching her there, taking her there. A single fingertip pressed inward, and she tore her mouth away from his. «Yes! Oh, yes. Jericho!»

He just chuckled, the sound dark and smoky, and worked his finger deep into her ass. His cock pistoning in and out of her pussy, his finger massaging the tight ring of her anus, the feel and taste of him after so long, stripped what was left of her control. Her body bowed hard, her head falling back against the wall. She exploded in one unstoppable rush. Her sex convulsed around him, her muscles clenching, milking him until her mouth opened in a silent scream.

A hoarse, guttural groan jerked from him as orgasm gripped him. He shoved into her once, twice, three more times before his fluids erupted inside her. It was enough to push her over the edge again, her pussy fisting tight as helpless shivers wracked her body.

«Tori,» he breathed, the word almost a prayer. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, he licked her, kissed her sensitized flesh.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the unwanted, unwarranted tears. Her mind refused to work, her thoughts drifting. She knew she should move, should push him away, but her muscles were as unresponsive as her brain, so she just stayed where she was, panting for breath, waiting for her racing heartbeat to slow. Waiting for reality to come roaring back to bitch-slap her.

They both groaned when his cock began to lengthen and harden inside her again, expanding to stretch her from deep inside. He straightened away from the wall, wrapped his arms tight around her, and walked unsteadily through the open bedroom door. Cradling her close, he lowered them both to the cool, smooth quilt, and sipped soft kisses from her lips as he went.

He leaned back just enough to peel her shirt off, unsnap her bra and fling the soft cotton garments away. His big hands cupped her breasts, lifting them for his mouth. Her breath tangled in her throat as anticipation sliced through her. God, but she wanted his mouth on her. She arched her back in offering. He grinned, flicking his tongue out to wet each tight nipple. «I have to say, women's underwear is a hell of a lot easier to get rid of now than it was back then.»

Her laugh sounded more like a needy whimper. «You're telling me. You never had to wear a damn corset.»

«Thank God for that.» And then he took her nipple in his mouth to suckle, and a deep moan burst from her. Sheer pleasure arced from her breast to her loins, and her pussy clenched hard around his cock. He groaned, setting his teeth into her nipple in response. She squealed, a fresh tide of wetness flooding her sex. Her hands lifted to his shoulders, her nails digging in deep, raking down his flesh. He grunted, swirling his tongue around and around her nipple before he shoved it hard against the roof of his mouth.

A low cry was the only articulation she could give to the heat, the need, the desperation exploding within her. Her thighs cinched on his waist as she tried to pull him deeper, squeezing him with her inner muscles, milking him until he shuddered and finally, finally began moving inside her. Her hips undulated beneath him, their harsh breathing, soft groans and slapping flesh the only sounds in the room. The scents of sweat and sex perfumed the air, a drugging aphrodisiac that made her burn.

She closed her eyes to savor how amazing it felt to have him over her and in her again, his heavy weight pressing her into a soft bed, his wide cock making her body work to accommodate him. It was pleasure and it was pain and it was exactly what she craved. An addict getting her fix after so many sober years on the bandwagon. He ground his hips against her clit, and she sobbed, digging her heels into the backs of his muscular thighs.

«Look at me, Tori,» he demanded. «I want to watch you come.»

She obeyed and was snared by his silver gaze. She had no idea what he saw in her face, but triumph and possession and a myriad of other emotions she couldn't name blazed across his expression. Her movement faltered, some belated caution rising to the surface of her consciousness.

«Nuh-uh. None of that.» His eyes narrowed, and his fingers slid between them to flick over her clit again and again until she strained upward and danced on the ragged edge of orgasm. Still, she couldn't look away from him. The dark flush running under his tanned skin, the kiss-swollen lips, the gleam of desperate hunger in his gaze. It was the desperation that captivated her. Jericho had never worn such a look before, not once. Lust, fury, greed-yes. Soul-deep desperation-no.

She wanted it to mean something, wanted it so badly, it shamed her, made tears well in her eyes and streak unchecked down her cheeks. His palms rose to frame her face, and he nuzzled and licked her tears away. When he kissed her, she tasted the salty moisture on his lips. The gentle reverence of the kiss was such a wild contrast to the roughness of his thrusting cock that it made her sob into his mouth, made her hotter and wetter, her inner flesh clinging to him. He angled his hips, slamming deeper, harder and it sent her flying.

Her pussy clenched in rhythmic spasms that went on forever, dragged her under until she had no sense of time or space. There was only Jericho's hands and mouth and muscular body driving her beyond sanity and into pure sensation. Every heavy thrust sent another orgasm screaming through her, made her throb around him. Tingles broke down her arms and legs, shivers she couldn't control wracking her.

«Tori, I-« His words broke off in a low groan as she came again, her thighs tightening on his flanks, her pussy wringing his cock. He shuddered and jetted deep inside her, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth. «Oh, God, Vitoria. My Tori.»

He sank down on her, his heavy weight crushing her into the mattress. Sweat sealed their bodies together, and she could barely drag air into her overtaxed lungs. Her muscles went slowly limp, still shaking in the aftermath. Her legs fell to the quilt, and she sighed. He grunted, heaving himself to the side so she could breathe again. He hooked an arm around her hips and dragged her back against him. Within minutes, his breathing leveled out into that of deep slumber. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts hazy, and she felt hollowed out by what had happened, what she'd never thought would happen again.

What should never have happened again. Reality returned in an awful rush, her gut clenching as nausea burned away the lingering tendrils of contentment that wound through her. Jesus, what had she done? Was she insane? Did she have some kind of crazy need to commit emotional suicide?

Tears burned in her eyes as she turned away from him, curled into herself, and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a harsh sob. It caught in her throat, threatening to strangle her. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd just rolled right over and spread her legs for him, like nothing bad had ever happened between them, like he'd never betrayed her. He was her soul mate, and she had no defenses against him. With him, she was so fucking weak. Pathetic. Needy. A huge failure. Just as she'd always been.

No wonder he'd turned to another woman.