Page 80 of Brazen Criminals

I text Emma, needing some girl-time tonight, asking her to pick me up at seven. She responds with a collection of random emoticons that more or less says she’s thrilled and that there will be drinking involved. And maybe kittens. I don’t really know. I laugh as I slip my phone back into my pouch, my step light as I pound through mile after mile.

After a shower and gobbling up leftovers from Walker’s last family dinner, I settle onto a pile of pillows in Jansen’s meditation space to wait for Emma.

Moments later, Jansen bounds down the stairs, bouncing into the parlor and flopping down next to me. “Hey,” he says, his side flush with mine.

“Hey,” I say, wanting to tangle my fingers with his but resisting. Where I get all this self-control is a mystery to me.

He’s decked out in maroon and gold, which is odd. These guys aren’t exactly “rah-rah go team” people. “What’s up with the gopher pride?” I ask, poking him in the shoulder.

He laughs, grabbing my finger and pressing a less-than-chaste kiss to the tip, his tongue flicking out for a taste. Tingles race down to my toes, and I want to cancel on Emma. Fuck being good.

He props himself on his elbow, lacing his fingers through mine, just like I’d wanted to do earlier, yet somehow retaining the ability to speak. I for sure can’t.

“I wanted to make sure it still fits. There’s a home game tomorrow, and this is perfect camouflage,” he says, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

I swallow, forcing words out through lips that would rather be busy with something else entirely. “Camouflage for what?”

He brushes a kiss against my cheek. “For relieving the horrible burden of wealth from men old enough to be my grandfather, one wallet at a time.” He glances around the hallway before pulling me flush with him, his lips closing over mine. I forget to breathe as his tongue darts in. My hands grip his shirt, trying to pull him even closer.

I’d forgotten how good his kisses feel. He pulls back, nibbling my ear, and I gasp, the feeling traveling straight to my now throbbing clit. Well, fuck.

“You look delicious,” he whispers in my ear.

“You kiss like sin,” I say.

He laughs, kissing me again, his hand sliding down to my waist, his thumb stroking the bare skin there.

“Jansen,” I croak, my thoughts scattered.

“Mmm, this is nice,” he says, tapping his nose to mine, his hand sliding up to cradle my breast.

“Very,” I say, as he gives it a squeeze. I push myself into him, our lips meeting again, moaning as his thumb brushes across my nipple. I run my hands under his shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his stomach and chest, warm and vibrating with energy.

The front door opens, and I blink at the light, Emma’s Cheshire grin flashing from above us. “I can come back,” she says, stepping out onto the porch to give us a minute.

“No, no, I’m coming,” I call, my face heating. God, this is ridiculous.

I work on straightening my clothes without Jansen helping at all. He’s just smirking at me, his arms still braced around me.

“Dude, move,” I say, giving him a gentle shove. He laughs, kissing me on the nose before popping up and helping me to my feet.

“Later,” he whispers into my ear.

“What if I need more time?” I ask.

Jansen sighs, a shot of guilt that mirrors my own flashing across his face.

I shouldn’t have done that, not before I figure out who I like best. He shrugs, not answering. My hand stays locked in his as we both go out to the porch, neither one of us wanting to let go.

I start down the steps, trying to untangle our hands, but at the last second, he pulls me back, touching his nose to mine. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll try harder next time.”

Tears flood my eyes unbidden, making it hard to see anything besides the sincerity in his green eyes. “Thank you, I’ll try to be better too,” I manage, knowing how confusing this all is. I press my lips to his cheek anyway, before turning and following Emma out to her car.

Once we’re in the car, Emma turns to me and squeals, “Jansen! Oh my God, spill, girl!”

I touch my lips as we pull onto the street, ignoring Emma dancing in her seat as she waits for me to gather my thoughts.

“It’s a mess,” I say.

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