He kept it clean. He’d made a few upgrades—a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, a new microwave in the tiny U-shaped galley. But theWreckwas a fishing boat, not a yacht. Even the rosy light of the setting sun could not disguise the bench seats’ fading navy upholstery, the scorch mark on the countertop from his uncle Tony’s cigar. Seaworthy and comfortable, but not the place you brought a woman. He had steam cleaned the spilled beer from the carpet, but memories still saturated the air, his pop’s big laugh, his cousins playing poker around the table, his brother Paul puking in the head.
“I like it,” Lauren pronounced. “It’s very cozy.”
“Thanks.”
She went down a step into the galley, her bare feet quiet on the smooth floor. He followed after her, trying not to loom, to make her feel trapped or stalked. Although, hell, he was a cop. Using his size to intimidate was part of the job. And maybe he was a dick, but her awareness of him, of his size, of his closeness, was kind of a turn-on. Anyway, the boat didn’t leave him much space to maneuver.
She peered through the narrow stateroom door. His bed, with storage underneath, took up all the available floor space. He had just enough headroom to get dressed in the mornings if he stood in the middle close to the door.
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s all mattress.”
He came up behind her, settling his hands at her waist, his thumbs riding the curve of her ass. She gave a little sigh and relaxed against him by degrees, the steel slowly leaving her spine, all the tension in her muscles surrendering to him. It was unbelievably erotic, feeling her yield against him.
He rubbed his jaw against her hair. “You want to test it out?” He kissed her neck, his lips barely parted, all breath and moisture.See? Controlled. No pressure. “Try it on.”
“Try it on?” Her voice shook with laughter and nerves.
He grinned into her throat. “For size.”
***
JACK’S DEEP VOICEsank into Lauren, vibrating in her ear, sending ripples through her like echoes in a pond.
Test it out.
Try it on.
Try me on. For size.
She shivered deliciously, feeling him hard behind her, the slight abrasion of his jaw ruffling her senses, prickling all her nerves to attention. Waking all her numbed emotions, all her bruised and stunted feelings, to life. She tingled with an almost painful awareness, as if her whole body was coming awake with returning circulation.
She turned in his arms. They stood toe-to-toe, close enough that she could feel his arousal. She smiled up at him. “It’s awfully big.”
His gaze darkened at her teasing. “You can handle it.”
His roughened voice stroked over her. She could do this. He made her feel as if she could do anything. “Okay,” she whispered and reached for him.
His stomach muscles jumped under her touch. His big hands covered and caught hers, lifting them away. “Hey, easy, there.”
“You said I could handle it.”
His laugh was husky. “I’m not sure how much I can handle, sweetheart. It’s been a while.”
His admission filled her with an odd combination of tenderness and power. “I’ll be gentle.”
His eyes kindled with laughter and heat. “How about we try something different? Let somebody take care of you for a while.”
Her mouth opened on a quick breath, her lungs expanding in excitement and a terrible, yearning hope.
For most of her life, she’d been the responsible one. Giving up that role, even in bed... She exhaled. How would that work exactly? Letting it all go sounded tempting, sure, but there were too many things that had to be managed. Egos. Orgasms. Birth control.
“I’m not really the lie-back-and-relax type,” she confessed.
“Why don’t we try it and see?” Jack murmured and lowered his head.
In Lauren’s experience, the way a guy kissed said a lot about him. Her college pals were mostly friendly, enthusiastic, and slobbery as puppies. Her grad student hookups were perfunctory and distracted, already thinking ahead to the main event. The slackers mostly stabbed with their tongues, like they had to get inside you somehow and never mind if you were ready.
Jack kissed like... well, like a detective searching for answers, alert for reactions, following up the clues of her response. As if what she felt, how she felt, were pieces of a puzzle he could take apart and solve.
