Page 37 of Once a Killer

As she headed for her room, Jameson hurried out of his bedroom. Black boxer shorts hung low on his hips, a tidy innie just visible above the band. She forced herself to focus on his face instead of his leanly muscled body. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Pad at the back door just alerted,” he said. “Someone’s out there.”

Chapter 13

Jameson didn’t miss the way Bree’s gaze lingered on his boxer briefs for a long moment. Then her gaze shifted up to his face.

Her baggy t-shirt slid across the small mounds of her breasts, snagging on the bumps of her nipples. That shirt moved when she did, first hiding her breasts, then molding to them. Back and forth. Hiding her breasts, then embracing them. He wanted to watch her move in that shirt all night.

“Jameson!” Her voice was a harsh whisper as she shoved his shoulder. “Snap out of it. I need to go after him.” She fumbled with the door. Swore. “Unlock the damn door.”

She’d rested her hand on the gun at her waist, and he found that hot as hell. But he turned and unlocked the door. Bree shoved him aside and darted out as soon as the opening was wide enough. He heard her bare feet hitting against the stairs and followed her out the door.

A figure darted into the alley as Bree raced down the stairs, and she flew down the sidewalk and out into the alley. Jameson ran after her, glancing at the stairs to the basement door as he raced toward the alley. His gaze touched on both of the adjoining yards, but nothing moved in the shadows. No sounds reached him except the fading smacks of Bree’s feet on the concrete of the alley.

Speeding up, he followed her into the alley, but she was no longer in sight. He stopped at the gate of his yard, torn by the need to protect Bree and the knowledge that she’d be mad as hell if he followed her.

He retreated a couple of steps into his yard and closed the gate. As if that would stop anyone intent on getting to him. A streetlight silhouetted him. Not good. He edged back a few steps. Realizing that he was exposed and vulnerable, he began walking backward toward the stairs. Bree was out of sight, and he felt exposed. Laid bare. As if he were offering himself up to whoever was watching.

When he reached the stairs, he crouched in the safety of dark shadows, looking for signs of Bree. The night was utterly silent. No wind. No animal sounds. No human sounds, either.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, Bree slipped through the gate and trotted toward him, a silent figure in the faint light from the alley. When she got close, she jerked her head toward the stairs, and he ran up the three flights. He heard the tiny, barely-there pat of Bree’s feet on the stairs behind him, but other than the rhythmic taps of bare feet, he heard no other sounds from her. No heaving breaths. No puffing. It was as if she were only a pair of feet, racing up the stairs.

He wrenched open the kitchen door and rushed inside, then turned in time to see Bree fly into the room. She closed the door behind her almost silently, then motioned for him to lock the door.

Once he’d activated all three locks, he turned to find she’d disappeared. When he listened, he heard her bare feet in his bedroom. The bathroom. Her bedroom. The living room.

When she returned to the kitchen, she stared at him for a long moment.

“What?” he said in a harsh whisper. “What did I do wrong?”

She shook her head slowly. “Nothing,” she said, her voice quiet. “You did everything I wanted you to do. You stayed in the yard, gate closed. You moved close to the house, so you could run up the stairs and get inside if you saw something… off.” She blew out a breath. “Thank you, Jameson. You made my job easier tonight, instead of harder. I appreciate that.”

He stared at her, every sense alert, his heart still pounding in his chest. “You ran out of here with no shoes. Barely dressed. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about doing my job,” she shot back. “Going after someone who was threatening you.” A muscle in her jaw clenched. Released. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t catch him. He had too much of a head start.” She shook her head. “He’d parked his SUV on the next street. I heard it start and got there just in time to watch him drive away.” Her lips thinned. “The bastard waved goodbye to me.”

She looked both angry and disappointed. Angry that the guy had trolled her and gotten away. Disappointed because she hadn’t caught him. Before he could think, before he could analyze his actions, he stepped toward her and swept her into his arms.

She stiffened beneath his hands. Tried to jerk away. But he pulled her against him. Buried his face in her hair. Breathed in the scent of strawberries.

“He had a big head-start on you,” he murmured into her hair. His arms circled her tense, rigid-as-a-board body. He stroked her back, feeling her hard muscles and the tiny bumps of her spine. “No way were you going to catch him tonight, no matter how hard you tried or how fast you ran. But at least he knows we’re paying attention. I bet he won’t try to break in again.”

He brushed a kiss over her hair, and knew she’d felt it by her tiny gasp. He drew her closer, suddenly desperate to pull her body against his. Feel her curves and softness against his hard muscles.

He held her close for what felt like a long time. Finally, her body began to relax against his. She flowed into him like water pouring out of a pitcher. As if every part of her fit perfectly against every part of him.

He tightened his arms around her, content for now to simply hold her. But he wanted desperately to taste her smooth pink mouth. Run his tongue over those calluses on her hands. He wanted to discover the way she kissed. The way she’d move against him while she kissed him.

But he already knew Bree held herself to high standards. It was unlikely she’d kiss him. He should be content to hold her, but he wanted more.

Finally, she stirred in his arms. He figured she wanted him to let her go, so he loosened his hold on her. But instead of stepping away, she lifted her head and pressed her mouth to his. Opened to him, and her taste exploded on his tongue. Toothpaste. Minty mouthwash. And the spicy, tangy flavor beneath those artificial tastes. Bree herself.

A taste he couldn’t get enough of.

He yanked her closer and opened his mouth against her lips. Touched his tongue to hers and waited for her to respond. When she curled her own tongue around his, he drew in a shuddering breath. He’d wanted to taste her since the day he’d met her.

Their kiss seemed to go on forever. Her lips were impossibly silky. Smooth. He couldn’t get enough of Bree, and from the way she moved against him, wrapping herself around his body, the tiny noises in her throat and her desperate hands clutching at his back, he was pretty sure she felt the same way.

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