Taming Johnny (10 page)

He found her warm, moist opening and thrust his tongue inside. She squirmed, moving her head from side to side. He flicked it again and again until she whimpered and brought her hips up farther.

“My God,” she said. And then with her face turned away, shuddered softly.

Was she crying?
It was dim and he couldn’t see her face very well, but he thought she might be. Her breath was coming just a little too fast, punctuated every now and then by a small sniff.

The sex was good so far. Really good. But he wasn’t fooling himself that he was actually able to bring a woman to tears. If she was crying it was because of something else. Something bigger. And the knowledge was enough to make his chest constrict. He didn’t like the feeling. It was foreign, risky, and just like that, he shut himself off like a light switch.

Without saying a word, he stood and took his shirt off, unbuttoning it with precise, measured movements, before tossing it on the dresser with his duty belt. Pulling a condom from his wallet, he unzipped his pants, stepped out of them, and lowered himself beside her. She scooted in, wrapping her arms around his neck, and spread her legs to invite him in. Her full, warm breasts pressed against his chest as he looked down into her face. Her lashes were dark and spiky, an unmistakable moisture seeping below them. Just when he was about to look away without acknowledging it in the least, because that’s how he operated, she surprised him and smiled. A dazzling, gorgeous, happy smile which took him so off guard that he couldn’t help but pull her closer, liking the way her supple body molded just right against his own.

Chapter 10

Emma lay in the crook of Johnny’s arm, listening to his deep, even breathing. He hadn’t moved for the last five minutes or so, and she guessed he was asleep. She peeked at the alarm clock on the dresser. 3:38 AM. They had been making love for two hours straight and now, finally spent, they lay with their legs entwined, Emma’s hair fanning along the length of his arm.

She tried closing her eyes, but it didn’t take. They kept opening again like faulty shutters. She was exhausted; a blissful kind of tired. But every time she was close to drifting off, her mind wouldn’t let her. It kept badgering her with questions she didn’t know the answer to.
Will he be here in the morning? Does this mean anything to him other than sex? How far are you going to fall for this guy?

She shifted, trying not to disturb him, and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Whenever she couldn’t sleep as a kid, her mother had made her warm milk. Couldn’t hurt. Anything to stop those particular thoughts from bombarding her brain. She grabbed an oversized t-shirt from the closet and pulled it over her head, stopping briefly to stare at the man in her bed.

Awake, he was always on edge, always ready with that barbed tongue of his. Asleep, he looked several years younger, his forehead smooth and free of the constant angry wrinkle between his brows. His hair was tousled and sexy, his naked chest rising and falling steadily. The sheets rode low on his hips and Emma felt herself heat, remembering how, not half an hour ago, she had her legs wrapped shamelessly around him. He looked so gorgeous lying there that she wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed, snuggle into his side, and lay her head on the warmth of his chest. She imagined him pulling her close, just like he did earlier, only this time whispering something tender in her ear.

Tender? This man? She had to laugh inwardly at that as she pulled her hair out from the neck of the t-shirt. Just what was she expecting? Marriage? Kids? Wasn’t going to happen. She might have had all that with Nigel, but she hadn’t loved him. It had broken her heart when she’d decided to back out of the Peace Corps and not go to Africa. It felt like she was backing out of becoming the person she’d always wanted to be. But she couldn’t make that kind of commitment with Nigel in the mix. She’d known then, just as surely as she knew now, that it would have been a mistake. He would have led the way for her like he always had. And she needed to make her own way.

So, here she was. Twenty-six, living a few miles from her parents, and working as a clerk in a police department. Nothing wrong with that. But it was so different than what she’d dreamed of after high school. She’d wanted to help people. Make a difference.

She tiptoed down the hall and into the kitchen, letting the light from the laundry room illuminate the way. Getting out the milk, she opted for the stove instead of the microwave so as not to wake Johnny. She stood there, watching the lazy steam snake its way into the air and thinking about things she hadn’t in a long time.

“You’re up early, Beaumont.”

She jumped and turned to see Johnny leaning against the kitchen wall wearing only his jockeys. Her heart wrenched. Could she ever hope to look that good just getting out of bed?

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Warm milk always did the trick when I was little.”

“Ah.” His gaze traveled down the length of her t-shirt, and she felt self-conscious again. It was shorter than the nighty she’d put on for him a few hours ago, and her thighs were still the same size. He was in such great shape, muscular, toned. Not an ounce of fat on his body. And she had more than a few ounces to spare.

She tugged on the hem of the t-shirt as if trying to rearrange it, but it bounced cheerfully back in the exact same position and length. “Do you want some?”

“Depends. Is it milk we’re talking about, or something else?”

Grinning, she took the pan off the stove. “Uh, milk. But something else could be arranged.”

She felt his eyes on her. All over her as a matter of fact. She could hardly believe that Johnny Street,
Lieutenant
Johnny Street, was standing in her kitchen at almost four in the morning, wearing nothing but his underwear and a smile. Pouring the milk into a mug, she glanced up nervously, unsure of what to say.

“When I woke up and you weren’t there, it threw me for a loop,” he said. “That’s usually my territory.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged.

“Not a cuddler? Never would have guessed.”

“I take it you are.”

She poured the milk into her lucky mug, a chipped white number with a unicorn on the front that her parents had given her in seventh grade. She rotated it quickly so the picture was facing her. “I wouldn’t mind a little now and then.”
A little? How about death by cuddle?

He stood contemplating that for a minute. Or contemplating her. She took a sip of milk and burned her tongue.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend, Beaumont? You seem…capable.”

“Thanks?”

He took a step forward. She immediately grew weak, anticipating his next move. She clutched the mug as if it were the only thing holding her upright.
Magical unicorn, please give me the strength not to drop you on my foot.

Reaching around, his forearms brushed against her stomach. She closed her eyes for a second. He made her so jumpy and she wondered if part of that had to do with the fact that she now knew what he could do with his mouth.

But instead of grasping her around the middle, he reached for the carton of milk and screwed the lid on, looking at her the whole time with his mouth curved just so.
And what a mouth.

She blinked.
What did he say? Something about cuddling?

“You never answered my question, Beaumont. Why aren’t you attached?”

“Well…I was. A while ago. It didn’t work out.”

He leaned on the counter, maddeningly casual, while her heart galloped like a Thoroughbred inside her chest. The way he was looking at her was…distracting.

“And why’s that?” he said.

“It’s complicated.”

He was curious, which she liked. She liked being a little bit of a mystery to someone like him. But how long until he lost interest? One week? Two?

“What about you?” she said. “You’re a good looking guy. Why aren’t you attached?”

He laughed, dismissing the question.

“I know what you’ve told me,” she said. “And I know how you act around the office. Like you’d rather be alone. Like you don’t need anyone. But I don’t buy it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

Pushing off the counter, he moved behind her. She stiffened, again expecting his touch. This time he didn’t disappoint. He pressed every inch of his warm body against hers and leaned in. His breath was hot and electric in her ear. “Needing someone and wanting them are two different things, Beaumont.”

She sucked in her stomach and held her breath as his hand made its way underneath the t-shirt and slowly up her side. The pads of his fingers were calloused and rough on the delicate skin of her abdomen. Then they found her breast and teased her nipple until it strained against the palm of his hand. Her temperature spiked in a matter of seconds. She was finding it hard to breathe, let alone keep her composure.

She closed her eyes, letting him stroke something deep inside her. Her loneliness maybe? Or perhaps it was her insecurity. But whatever it was, he soothed it, like putting a heating pad on a sore, bruised muscle.

“Which is it?” she breathed, afraid of the answer. “Do you need me, or want me?”

He kissed her neck and she closed her eyes.

“What are you doing next weekend?” he asked. “Do you like barbeques?”

* * * *

Johnny had never been one to crave a lot of sleep. He could get by on just a few hours, a gift left over from his days in the Army. It was a good thing too, since he dressed the next morning with barely a half hour of it.

He’d said his goodbyes to Beaumont before she got in the shower. He’d kissed her long and deep, barely able to let go. She’d wrapped her arms around his neck in that way she had. Like she didn’t want to
be
let go. And he wasn’t sure how that made him feel yet.

He’d asked her to the barbeque last night before he really had a chance to think it through. Bringing a date to a family function wasn’t exactly his style. His aunt would ask all kinds of questions and he’d have to deal with those stupid, juvenile looks from Eli. Not to mention, the exasperating ones from Jake. But right then, pressed against her, smelling her hair and feeling her incredible curves against his groin, he’d wanted her to come with him. At that moment, he wanted more than just what she was offering between the sheets. He’d wanted her companionship.

After he’d kissed her that morning and she’d pulled reluctantly away, she grinned. “I made coffee. It’s on the counter. Just help yourself.”

He nodded and watched her walk into the bathroom, her perfectly shaped behind swaying underneath the t-shirt that barely covered it.

Looking at the clock, he dressed quickly, and made his way to the kitchen for the coffee. But when he reached for a mug, something on the counter caught his eye. Normally he wouldn’t have looked. Normally he would have gone on about his business, blessedly indifferent to his surroundings. Not knowing, or caring what other people kept on their kitchen counters. But that was the funny thing about how he felt right now. He wasn’t indifferent. On the contrary. So he did look. He leaned closer to the open letter which was catty-corner to the coffee pot and mixed in with a few bills. He didn’t pick it up. He didn’t need to. He could read quite clearly what it said, in messy, haphazard handwriting.

Please think about it. It’s not too late for us here. I love you- Nigel.

* * * *

For Emma, that day at work was a confusing one. She’d just had
the
hottest night of her life and was sore in areas she never knew existed. And that was a good thing, a very good thing. She must have looked happy, because Sally immediately noticed. Even the chief noticed something was different and asked if she’d cut her hair. Emma just smiled. But when she ran into Johnny, he was cold, aloof. Unusually so. He hesitated before looking her in the eye, and when he did, it was as if she’d wronged him somehow.

She spent the entire afternoon wondering what she’d done, or even
if
she’d done anything at all. It was quite possible that this was the side of Johnny Street who truly didn’t want to be attached to anyone or anything. And this was how he ensured it wouldn’t happen. That thought was enough to make Emma want to cry. Even though she hadn’t intended for it to happen, even though she thought she’d known what she was getting herself into, it was obvious that she’d already fallen for Johnny. Now she might have to face the music, as painful as it was.

“Come
on
, Emma. Just a few details won’t kill you,” Sally whispered from her chair.

“I’m afraid if I talk about it, I’ll jinx everything.” And that was the honest to God truth. “But I promise, we’ll have a girl’s night next week, okay? I’ll spill then.”

Sally sighed and put her glasses back on, swiveling back toward her computer. “All right. But I’m holding you to it, missy.”

Emma couldn’t bring herself to smile at her friend’s nosy tenacity. Instead, she looked up at the clock. 4:50. Almost quitting time and Johnny hadn’t said two words to her all day. This was ridiculous. They weren’t kids. She had to at least find out if he was taking her to that barbeque tomorrow. Of one thing she was sure—she couldn’t keep riding this emotional roller coaster. It was too hard on the ticker.

“Night, Sal. See you Monday.” She got up and headed down the hall toward Johnny’s office, realizing she might have to end up telling Sally the details over rocky road ice cream, if this was how things were going to be. She just had a feeling.

Steeling herself, she knocked on his door.

“Yeah?”

Brusque as usual.
But again, he sounded different somehow.

“Hey.”

He looked up, his eyes stony. “Hey.”

Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, she stepped inside. “Anything wrong?”

“What’d be wrong?”

“You haven’t said much all day.”

“I don’t usually say much.”

“You act like you’re upset with me.”