Page 44 of Claimed by Him

I reached for my coffee and finished with a single long gulp. It wasn’t quite cold, but definitely heading toward lukewarm. I needed the caffeine though.

Actually, I needed something stronger than caffeine. I needed alcohol. Clearing things up with Jalen had been good, but now I was all too aware that we were waiting for a phone call that was either going to close my case or make things a whole lot worse.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Should I just sit here and stare at the phone? Would it be wrong to want to take a nap? Then I remembered that I was at Jalen’s house and taking a nap here would be weird. No nap then. Should we talk? About what? The case? I’d given him pretty much everything I had already. And talking about it would make me start to think about what those poor girls were going through, which would make me want to go down to the storage unit and help. Except I couldn’t help. Because I wasn’t a cop or an FBI agent.

Because I’d gotten kicked out for lying about my name and about my shitty dad spending life in prison.

Which meant I couldn’t go in and help the girls I found or arrest the scumbags who’d been hurting them. I hadn’t even been able to get the people whose job it was to protect them to go and do just that.

I swallowed hard, tears burning my eyes. No. I wasn’t going to do this now. I couldn’t do this now. Not with Jalen sitting there. We’d just gotten things fixed up between us. I didn’t need to make things awkward because I was too tired to control my emotions.

“Can we move past what happened?” Jalen broke the silence. “Go back before I acted like a total ass and start over again?”

I cleared my throat and pushed down the emotions threatening to choke me. “So, before we met then?”

He chuckled. “How about before I walked out like a moron?”

I raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. “You mean back to when we were fucking?”

He leaned closer, his arm brushing against mine. “Yes, Rona. Back to when I was buried balls deep in that tight cunt of yours, coming so hard I saw stars.”

F-u-c-k.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I think we can go back to that.”

I really hoped he meant what I thought he did. It was stupid. Again. But I wanted it. I needed it. Him. Not just for a distraction, but because there was something I didn’t understand between us, and I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.

“I don’t want to take advantage of the situation,” he said quietly. He brushed hair back from my face but didn’t pull his hand back. His fingers ghosted across my skin, a touch nearly impossible to feel, but one that left such a fire in its wake that I couldn’t feel anything else.

“I don’t want pity sex,” I countered. I put my hand on his thigh, loving the feel of his muscles bunching beneath my palm.

“I don’t pity you, Rona.” He slid his hand up and around to grip my hair. The shock of pain prompted a small sound that made his pupils dilate, his irises darken. “I admire you.”

“You admire me?”

He shook his head and chuckled, a sensual sound that flowed over my skin. “Yes, crazy woman. I admire you. Everything you’ve accomplished. How strong you are.”

“That’s what all the girls want to hear.” I tucked my hands under his shirt, my smile widening as he cursed. “How strong they are.”

He leaned closer, not stopping until his mouth was only a breath away from mine. “I thought women wanted the truth.” He brushed his lips across mine. “That’s the truth. You’re strong.”

He kissed the corner of my mouth.

“And insanely intelligent. Passionate. Stubborn. Sexy.”

He pulled my head to the side and kissed down the side of my neck.

“I don’t pity you,” he repeated his earlier statement as he raised his head. His gaze burned into me. “I want you because you’re all of those things I said and more. I’m not asking for anything more than this right now if that’s what you want. All I need to know now is if you want me too.”

I answered him by sliding off the couch and down onto my knees. “Shirt off.”

He had it off in one smooth motion, revealing all of that gorgeous flesh. As I positioned myself between his legs, I ran my hands up his stomach, admiring the tight muscles and light dusting of hair. I scratched my nails across his flat nipples, and he swore, his body jerking.

“Shit, Rona,” he groaned. “Your turn. Take off your shirt.”

I ignored him, turning my attention to the growing bulge that his soft cotton pants did absolutely nothing to hide. He raised his hips, helping me get rid of the last barrier between me and my prize.

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