Page 53 of Second Go-Round

Fantasy number one fulfilled in a way I couldn’t have imagined, leaving me sore and sated, but I was more than ready for a second round—

Wait.

Jarod had woken me from hazy sleepiness. I frowned, recalling every emotion filling his dark eyes. I’d wanted to burrow beneath his skin and become one with him, latch onto his soul, and never let go…

Fuck.

I opened my eyes again to find the clock read eight-seventeen.

Our time was up.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I shifted in his arms, trying to wake him gently. “Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Jarod.”

“Hmm?” His voice rumbled against my ear, and he squeezed me close.

“You’re off the clock.”

He rubbed his face against my hair and pushed the mass of waves from my neck. “This isn’t about a job right now,” he murmured against my skin.

Danger, my mind screamed, but shivers of fire slid down my body as his lips and tongue traced patterns on my neck. I didn’t scoot away as I should have. Nope. I had to go and angle my neck to give him better access.

“Mmm, you taste delightful in the morning.”

Goddamnit.

I pulled away and sat, lowering my feet to the floor while scanning the room for my dress. There. By the door. Heart thrumming in my throat, I crossed the room, trying to keep the swaying of my ass to a minimum since I felt the heat of Jarod’s stare on my backside. I squatted to pick up my dress rather than bending over and giving him a sight he would enjoy too much. Once in the bathroom with the door closed, I shut my eyes and shivered.

That slow rocking of hips the night before had made a huge spider crack in my wall. The look in Jarod’s eyes as he’d made love to me, the emotion pouring out of him… We hadn’t kissed, but we’d been completely wrapped up in one another regardless. Hell, I’d been desperate for him to take me again. Raw. Nothing between us.

“Goddamnit!” I whispered the word harshly and strode toward the toilet, my insides churning.

He made me weak—want things that scared the shit out of me. I needed to get the hell out of there to save us both future pain.

I took care of business, yanked up my dress, and ran my shaking fingers through my hair. Anyone with eyes would see the war in mine, the unguarded, vulnerable mess of my mind. Keep your distance, Christine. Let him touch you again and you’re a goner.

I pulled open the door, hell-bent on escaping the feelings, the desires he stirred up inside me.

Jarod lay on the bed, mussed hair, sleepy and sexy bedroom eyes aimed my way. His gaze flitted down over my state of dress, and a frown tugged on his brow. “You’re leaving?”

Somehow, I forced my head up and down in a stilted nod—like my body didn’t wish to agree with my mind.

Silence hovered between us, thick with longing, ripe with unease.

I wanted to crawl back beneath that tented sheet and wrap myself around his warm, hard body. I wanted his mouth fused to mine, his cock filling me, erasing everything in my mind but the feel and presence of him. I wanted—no, needed—space between us. Safety.

“I-I wish you all the best,” I somehow managed and spun away, grabbing my shoes and bag.

“You are my best.” Jarod’s whisper followed me out the hotel’s door.

Fall’s cooler nights did nothing to boost my mood like it usually did after a long, hot summer. Everything felt flat—off—since I’d walked out on Jarod. Two more bomb threats worried the Boston area, one including Chantelle’s Too, the nightclub where Jarod and I had met. A reporter stood outside the roped-off entrance, explaining how a bomb had been found in one of the lockers.

I sat at the lunchroom table on Friday morning, eating my dry bunny greens and grilled chicken, focusing on the TV across the tiny room.

Footfalls came from the hallway, and Dad appeared in the doorway a few seconds later.

“They found the bomb,” I said, my attention flitting back to the reporter as I speared my fork into my salad.

“Thank goodness it didn’t go off last night.”

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