A Matter of Time 05.5 - Just Jory (MM) (2 page)

By the time he got back, I had eaten the leftovers from lunch and chugged one of the water bottles he kept in the tiny fridge behind the driver’s seat.

“It’s about time,” I groused at him as he got in.

He grunted. “It seems you scared the crap out of the bank robbers with stories about me. They found them ten blocks away in their hotel room, packing.”

“How did they get out?”

“Same way they got in––through some service elevator that leads to the alley.”

I had to process.

“What did you say?”

“I don’t… I didn’t say anything to them. Not really.”

He was squinting again.

“What? I didn’t. I was just worried that you were gonna be pissed at me.”

“I am pissed at you.”

I groaned. “Could you just take these cuff things off already, please?”

He reached into the console between the seats and pulled out the clipper for them. I was free seconds later.

I was massaging my wrists as I turned to look at him. “That was mean.”

“You are a trouble magnet.”

“I am not.”

The look I got was disbelieving.

“I just… Things happen sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

I shrugged.

“Come here.”

I moved fast because really, any excuse to get into Sam’s lap was one I would take. I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared into his beautiful, smoky blue eyes. He grabbed hold of my ass and yanked me forward, shoving my groin into his rock-hard abdomen.

“I think you made the news,” he grinned at me.

“I did?” That was fun.

He leaned in and I kissed him. My lips melted over his, my tongue took the tour of his hot mouth and mauled him until he finally had to pull away to breathe.

“Why weren’t you scared?” He asked me, panting.

“Because you were right outside. Why would I be scared?”

“What if I couldn’t get to you?”

“You?” I chuckled. “Not be there to save me? Is that even possible?”

“No, it’s not,” he assured me, hand on the back of my head, fisting in my hair as he recaptured my mouth for a second round.

By the time I was squirming in his lap, whimpering with need, we had to move the car and he gently, but firmly, put me back in my seat and pulled the seatbelt around me.

“Hurry up and get home,” I ordered hoarsely.

“I’m hurrying but you––oh,” he suddenly cackled, and I heard the ring on his car phone at the same moment. “Hello?”

Why was he smiling? Why––

“Sam?” came the brisk, no-nonsense tone over the line. “Where––”

“You saw the news,” Sam said, turning to me, his smile out of control as I put my head back and groaned a little too loudly.

“Is that Jory? Jory!”

“It’s not what you think,” I promised my older brother, Dane Harcourt.
Sam started chuckling.

“For heaven’s sake, Jory! You’re a trouble magnet!”

And between my brother yelling and my husband waggling his eyebrows at me, I knew it was going to be a long drive home.

“At least you’ll get laid when you get there,” Sam promised me, whispering.

And that was an excellent point.

“Are you listening to me?” Dane was fuming.

Unfortunately, I was.