Wild Justice

CHAPTER 38

I hovered by the elevators while Jack got the room. The lobby was, thankfully, empty. When I saw Jack coming, I hit the button, got on, and held it for him as I hid out of view.

He stepped on, shaking his head at me. “You look fine.”

“No, I look chewed up and spit out.”

“You look fine to me.”

I smiled. “Thank you.” The doors closed. “And thank you for tonight. It was memorable.”

A low chuckle. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

He stepped toward me tentatively, his gaze sharp, evaluating my reaction. When I smiled, he eased a little closer.

“Did I tell you I liked your dress?” he said. “I’m not good at that. Saying the right thing.”

“I got the impression you liked it.”

“You looked good. But to me? You always look good. Then. Now.”

“I could wear dirt and smeared makeup more often if you’d like.”

He laughed softly. “Can if you want.” He sobered. “I just meant I know you dressed up. For tonight. Should comment.” He paused. “That doesn’t sound right. Fuck. I’m no good at—”

I grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him into a kiss, and this time there was no surprise, no hesitation. Hell, there wasn’t even a moment of transition. I kissed him and it was as if we’d only pushed pause in the park. Two seconds later, I was up against the side of the elevator, his hands under my ass, mine in his hair.

In the rare times that I’d dared let myself imagine what it would be like to be with Jack, I’d had a pretty clear idea of what to expect. Sex with Jack would be like Jack himself. Slow, measured, cautious. Hell, no. It was like driving a pipeline straight into that intensity boiling under the surface.

“How far’s our room?” I gasped when we broke for air.

“Too far.”

I glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “There is a stop button.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached over and hit it. I laughed, and as we kissed again, my fingers slid between us, and I started to unbutton his shirt as he hiked my skirt up—

The elevator phone began to ring.

“God-fucking-damn-it.”

“Agreed,” I said.

Jack swung toward the phone like he was ready to shoot it. I reached over and hit the button to restart the elevator.

“Two minutes,” I said. “In two minutes, we’ll be locked in a room where no one can interrupt us.”

When the doors began to open, Jack gave them a hand. There was a moment at the room door when the key card didn’t want to cooperate—Jack took advantage of the pause to slide his hand under my skirt—and I began to wonder if we were going to make it into the room after all. But the door thankfully opened and we stumbled in.

As I flipped on the light, I realized Jack had managed to get us a suite again, which meant there was a separate bedroom, which was lovely . . . and much too far away at the moment.

Jack swung me up against the armchair, and I eased up onto the low back, legs wrapped around him. It was a bit of a balancing act, but hey, all that exercise does pay off.

We managed to kiss for about five seconds less than the last time before he had my skirt up and I was undressing him. Foreplay—like the bed—could wait for next time. Even the simple act of undressing seemed like too much work. I popped two buttons on Jack’s shirt and the one on his trousers was left hanging by a thread. The ripping sound I heard as he pulled off my dress suggested I might not be wearing it again. And while I’d taken great care in picking out a matching bra and panty set, I don’t think Jack noticed. The bra was off in seconds—after some cursing with the clasp—and the panties where about to follow when he stopped.

“Shit!” His eyes widened. “I didn’t bring . . .”

“Let me guess . . . You weren’t expecting the evening to end this way.”

“Fuck, no.”

I laughed, pulled up my panties, and crossed to where I’d dropped my purse. “Luckily, I know this guy who’s taught me that I need to be prepared for every contingency . . . even if he apparently isn’t.”

He exhaled a deep sigh of relief as I pulled out a condom. I laughed. As I did, he stopped, as if just seeing me. His gaze traveled over me.

“Fuck.”

I nodded at the bra on the floor. “Yep, a matching set. Like I said, I was prepared for every contingency.”

“Didn’t mean the underwear,” he said, and crossed the space between us, swooping me down onto the floor.

We did make it to the bed. After we were done. Better late than never. As we lay there, Jack on his back, me curled up against him, his arm under me, I looked over and said, “There’s something I need to tell you. I know you aren’t going to like it.”

His head whipped my way, and the expression in his eyes was almost enough to make me regret it. Almost.

I took a deep breath. “I really appreciated that.”

He sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, deserved that. I was being an ass. Didn’t mean it. No fucking good at this.”

I grinned. “Oh, you seem plenty good at it.”

Another laugh. “Got a good partner. Makes a difference. You know what I mean, though. Relationships. Fucking clueless.” He stopped laughing and rubbed his mouth with his free hand. Then he looked over at me. “That’s what this is for me. You know that, right? Not one night.”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

He relaxed, shifting to rub my back. “Good. Not trying to jump the gun. Make demands. I just know . . . Expectations . . . Not understanding them . . . That was a problem. Don’t want that.”

“Neither do I.”

“Don’t have any expectations except one. That I want to make this work.” He met my gaze. “I really want to make this work.”

“So do I.”

“You’re gonna need to be patient with me.”

I smiled. “I have plenty of experience with that.”

He laughed softly and pulled me on top of him.

I slept until nearly noon, probably because it’d taken us a while to get to sleep. Round one had been feverishly swift; round two deliciously slow. While part of me just wanted to lie there, curled up against Jack as he slept, once I’m awake, I’m awake, and I was only going to disturb him if I stayed.

He was sleeping on his stomach, leg over mine. I eased out. He was too far gone to even notice. I crept from the bedroom and into the bath, quietly shut the door, and climbed into the shower.

I was finishing washing my hair when I had the sensation of being watched and turned to see Jack just inside the door. He’d closed it behind him and was standing there, watching me. When I looked over, his expression changed, open admiration vanishing in a hesitant look, as if I might still have changed my mind.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as I opened the shower door. “If you need a shower, I can hurry. Or . . .” I stepped back, leaving the door open.

“Don’t need a shower,” he said and stepped in with me.

I was lying in the living room, dressed in a robe that I hadn’t bothered to fasten, stretched on the sofa, blissed out like a kitty on catnip, staring into nothing, mind empty. Jack had stepped out to get coffee. Also, more condoms. Not that I expected sex this afternoon. Jack wasn’t my age, and three times set a personal record for me. But, well, I wouldn’t turn down the chance to make it four.

Yes, we did have other things to do. Important things. Life-preserving things, even. But Jack had called Evelyn, and we were going to courier her the locked cell phone. So I was lying there, naked on my open robe, happy to stay that way for a while longer, when a knock came at the door. I scrambled up. I vaguely recalled putting out the Do Not Disturb sign, and I couldn’t imagine Jack would take it down, but the cleaning staff might have decided that two in the afternoon was as late as they were waiting.

“The room’s fine,” I called as I walked to the door, fumbling for the robe belt, which I’d apparently left elsewhere.

“That’s good,” came the reply. “Because I’m not going to clean it for you.”

Even through the door, I recognized that voice and I stopped midstep.

“Quinn?”

“Bearing coffee and muffins, which I’m going to eat myself if you make me stand here much longer.”

No. It couldn’t be. He was in New York, and there was no way he could know which hotel we were in. I must have dozed off on the sofa and fallen into a dream.

More like a nightmare.

“Dee?”

I carefully slid the chain, trying not to make any noise as I fastened it. Then, cinching my robe, I cracked the door open the two inches the chain would allow. Quinn stood there, holding a coffee tray and bag, his brows arched, a smile playing on his lips. The smile grew as his gaze traveled down me.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Sorry. I was getting into the shower. Just . . . Let me take the chain off and give me five seconds to get into the bathroom.”

“Um, even if you weren’t wearing the robe, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” His grin grew, eyes glinting. “And nothing I’d complain about seeing again.”

Wonderful. Quinn wasn’t just here at the worst possible time. He was here in the worst possible mood.

“Right. Sorry. I’m just . . .”

“Rough night? I heard. Which is why I’m here, though I’d prefer to be inside . . .”

“Right. Just a sec.”

I closed the door and counted to five, getting my thoughts in order. Call Jack. That’s what I had to do. Before he walked in with breakfast and a box of condoms. My phone was in my purse, on the floor, half spilled from last night.

Last night . . .

Ah, hell. Hell, hell, hell. Really, Quinn? Now?

“Dee?”

I snatched up my cell phone. Then I unfastened the door. I was backing away to let him in when I caught a glimpse of green lace by the chair. I managed to kick my panties underneath with a punt that would make a footballer proud.

Quinn walked in. His gaze traveled over me again. “Nice robe.”

“Um, thanks. I’m going to take that shower.”

“You want company?”

My cheeks flared.

“Sorry,” Quinn said. “I’ll behave. Go on.”

I was starting to leave when I remembered that half of my undergarments were still unaccounted for. I looked over and saw a bit of my bra strap on the armchair. As Quinn put down coffee, I tossed the throw pillow back onto the armchair, covering my bra. Then I scampered into the bathroom.

I locked the door, started the shower, and called Jack.

“Quinn’s here,” I said when he answered.

Silence.

“Not a joke,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Another moment of silence. “Fuck.”

“Exactly. I have no idea what’s going on. I’m holed up in the bathroom pretending to shower to explain why I answered the door in a robe.”

“Fuck.”

“Right. So just . . .”

“On my way.”

“Thanks.”