Mercy(White Collared Part 1)(25)
“Gunshot,” she said automatically.
His palm drifted down her cheek to her shoulder. “I’m not the only one who’s been touched by violence, am I?”
“Hasn’t everyone?” she countered, shivering, thrown by how in tune he was with her thoughts. Her emotions. Her body.
His brown eyes smoldered, and, for the first time, she sensed darkness in him. “No. Not like we have. Looking into your eyes is like looking in a mirror. Maybe that’s why . . .” He smoothed the callused pads of his fingers along her collarbone, leaving goose bumps in their wake and beading her nipples.
Was this another part of her training? Because it felt real. Realer than the artwork hanging on the walls of his home. This felt dangerous. Exciting. Alive. She felt way too much for this man. A man suspected of murdering his wife. A man who wasn’t Tom. A man who was her client.
Yet despite the possible ethical and legal ramifications of becoming sexually involved with him, she silently willed those fingers to move south, needing to feel those calluses abrade her aching nipples. But the Dom in him was obviously on his own timetable because he continued to skim his fingers across the length of her collarbone. A needy, breathy moan escaped from her throat, darkening his eyes to onyx. With one hand splayed low on her back, he pressed her against the ridge of his erection, proving in the most delicious way that this attraction wasn’t one-sided. His head dipped lower, his lips edged closer, and his fingers drifted down the upper swell of her breast, so close to her nipple she thought she’d go insane if he didn’t make contact soon.
She wanted him.
Consequences be damned.
Chapter Ten
HIS LIPS HOVERED over hers, his breath sweet and warm. They hadn’t even kissed, yet she’d never been so aroused, the walls of her slick pussy fluttering in the hope that Jax would soon fill it with his thick fingers, his tongue, or his cock. Rational thought had fled and been replaced with pure, wanton physical desire.
Until the shrill ringing of a phone broke through the sensual fog, dropping her straight back into reality.
She backed away from him, rubbing her neglected lips. Except for his throat working over a swallow, he didn’t move a muscle. His eyes returned to their normal golden brown.
He motioned to her pants. “Are you going to answer?”
Oh. It was her phone. She slid the cell from the pocket of her black slacks.
Nick.
Swamped with guilt, she answered. “Hi, Nick. How was trial?”
“We settled. How’s your training?”
She tried to sound normal. “Great. Jaxon was just about to take me home. We’re ready for Benediction tomorrow night.”
He was silent.
“Nick? Are you there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I got distracted.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in the morning.” The call disconnected.
Had she said something wrong? Had he somehow figured out what he’d interrupted?
“I’ll take you home,” Jax said. Then, without another word, he left her alone in the playroom.
The ride home wasn’t any better. He’d barely spoken other than to ask for directions. It shouldn’t bother her. She’d obviously misread their connection. Just because he was attracted to her didn’t mean he wanted anything to happen between them other than what was necessary to convince everyone she was his sub. The erotic caresses, the almost kiss, the hard cock against her belly. None of it had meant a damn thing.
Her entire body hummed with the kind of need only an orgasm or two, and not the self-induced kind, would satiate. She glanced at the dashboard clock. Tom should be home from work by now, and she hadn’t seen him in a few days. A night with him would remind her of why she loved him, and then she could mentally slot Nick and Jaxon in their proper places as her boss and client. “I’ve changed my mind. Up at the next light, make a left.”
“Where am I taking you, Kate?”
Kate. Not Katerina. Disappointment lanced her chest.
She could lie. She didn’t owe him anything. “My boyfriend’s apartment,” she answered honestly.
Bittersweet triumph rocked her off her foundation when his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Dating long?” he asked casually.
“Two years.” They’d met on campus during her first year of law school when he was in his last year of medical school. Two souls who didn’t bother to stop studying for a minute. Their books spread out in front of them as they ate the cafeteria’s soggy sandwiches. After seeing each other every day at lunch for a week, he’d started up a conversation with her. He later confessed he’d wanted to ask her out the first day he’d spotted her, but it took him the week to gather his courage. It seemed like a lifetime ago.