The Heat Is On (7 page)

“Do you want this, Bella?”

In answer, she took the hand he had on her ass and brought it around until he cupped her. Again he groaned low in his throat, and then his mouth found hers, crushing her lips, his tongue delving deep.

Yeah, she wanted this. And even as she thought it, he lifted her up and turned to her bedroom. Suddenly she found herself airborne and then she hit the mattress with a bounce. With a laugh, she started to sit up but found herself pinned by two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and she shivered in anticipation.

“Cold?” he murmured in her ear, his hands sliding beneath her tank, settling on her ribs.

She shook her head and clutched at him. “No.”

He held her gaze as his hands slid farther north, covering her breasts, his thumbs slowly rubbing over her nipples.

A shuddery breath escaped her.

He tugged her tank up and off, baring her to his eyes, and then his mouth.

Already half gone, she shivered again, and panted his name.

He groaned in approval, then stood to strip out of his clothes, stopping to pull a condom from his pocket.

She'd thought she had the image of his perfect body etched in her brain, but the reality was even better than the memory. Clueless to how gorgeous he was, he kneeled on the bed at her feet. His hands hooked in the material at her hip, slowly sliding
her panties down her legs and off before he parted her legs.

And then his gaze skimmed down at what he'd unwrapped for himself. “God, Bella. Look at you.” He kissed a rib, dipped his tongue into her belly button. “I need to taste you, all of you.” Urging her open even farther, his thumb made a slow, barely there graze right over her center, and she nearly came off the bed.

“My toes are curling!” she gasped.

“I have the cure for that.” And he replaced his thumb with his mouth and proceeded to drive her right out of her ever-loving mind. She came with such force that her entire body was trembling, and still he didn't stop.
“Jacob.”

“Making sure you aren't faking anything,” he murmured against her wet flesh.

She laughed, then moaned as his tongue got busy again, ravaging and plundering as he brought her to orgasm once more before finally releasing her.

When she opened her eyes, he had a forearm on either side of her shoulders and was gazing into her face. She had just enough left in the tank to laugh breathlessly. “Show-off.”

He smiled, a mixture of wicked intent and fierce affection that didn't just take the last of her breath but also turned her heart over and exposed its tender underside.

What he did next cracked it wide-open.

He entwined their hands beside her head, mur
mured her name softly, and then, condom somehow miraculously in place, drove into her with one fierce thrust.

“Oh God, Jacob,
God…
”

He filled her so deeply, so completely, she felt as if he was touching her soul, and her hips rocked mindlessly up to meet his. He nudged her face with his jaw, then looked into her eyes as he moved within her, his thrusts deep and steady.

So good, it was so damn good. That was all she could think, and lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over her, her eyes began to drift shut.

“No, don't close them. Look at me.”

Somehow she managed to drag them open for him, open and on his, which were letting her in, letting her see what she was doing to him.

Unbelievably, she was on the precipice again, hovering on the very edge. “Please. Jacob,
please.
”

“Mmm.” He nipped her jaw, then her lower lip. “I like the begging. More of that.”

She laughed breathlessly.

Eyes nearly black with desire, he rubbed his jaw to hers and her laughter faded away. Arching her back, she wound her legs higher around his waist, gripping him as tight as she could.

Now they were hand to hand, chest to chest, breathing as one as their movements sped up, becoming almost frantic, and then, at the very end, she cried out first as she came, hearing and feeling him immediately follow her.

It was the single most sensual, erotic experience of her entire life, and she wondered for the first time how she would ever be able to walk away from this.

J
ACOB WOKE UP, THE
sun shining on his face. He was alone in Bella's bed, which was not only a new experience, but also a little humiliating.

He was a cop, for crissakes. As a rule, he slept light, able to wake at the slightest sound or movement.

And yet he'd slept through her leaving, like the living dead.

Of course, he thought, bleary-eyed, as he looked at the clock—7:30 a.m.—he hadn't gotten all that much sleep. Last night, after having his merry way with Bella in bed, they'd moved to the shower where she'd returned the favor.

And then, starving, they'd ended up downstairs in the shop's kitchen, where they'd pulled miniature raspberry turnovers out of the fridge at two in the morning, feeding them to each other.

Licking the raspberry filling off each other…

Jacob rolled out of bed and recovered his clothes
from where they were strewn across the floor. He had a raspberry stain across his chest in a shape that looked suspiciously like a handprint, and he had a flashback to Bella sitting on the counter, him between her legs teasing her, and her fisting her fingers in his shirt so he couldn't get away.

As if he'd wanted to.

Probably no one would be able to tell what the stain was from, he decided, and grabbed his gun and cell phone from the nightstand. He took a stab at his hair with his fingers and helped himself to Bella's toothbrush.

That was all the easy part.

After he'd laced his boots, he made his way down the stairs. He intended to get on his bike and head straight to work, but the back door to the shop was open and the most delicious scents wafted out, making his stomach rumble.

He needed more than raspberry filling.

Bella, her back to him and the door, wearing hip-hugging jeans and a snug red tee, was talking to Willow.

“I can't commit to the Walker anniversary cake, I don't know if I'll be here next month,” she said, and for a minute Jacob forgot to breathe.

“Honey,” Willow said, sounding as if she was having the same problem. “You're the best pastry chef Santa Rey has ever seen. Please consider staying longer, maybe the whole summer.”

“I don't know.” She spoke with real regret and
steely determination. “I was up front with you from the beginning.”

“I know, but just think about it, okay? You have the place, you have the beach right here, it's gorgeous weather, and you have a hot guy in your bed. What more could you want?”

“How do you know about the hot guy in my bed?”

“Well, because you've been wearing a just-got-some smile all morning. And because he's standing right behind you.” Willow winked at Jacob, and grabbing a tray of fresh pastries, made her way out of the kitchen toward the front of the shop.

Bella whirled around to face him, surprise on her face.

“Didn't mean to eavesdrop,” he said. “All the amazing smells coming out of here drew me in.”

She tugged him out of the doorway. “I'll feed you.”

“I have to go to work.”

“Food first.” She stared up at him for a moment, her mouth slightly curved.

“What?” he asked, having no idea what she could be thinking when she looked at him like that.

“You look…uncivilized,” she said.

“Uncivilized?”

“Yeah.” She was still staring at him, eyes warm. “You look sleepy and a little bit rumpled, and a whole lot hungry.” She eyed the bulge of the gun on his hip. “And armed. It's a good look on you, Jacob.”

He pulled her in and put his mouth to her ear. “Keep looking at me like that and I'll show you what I'm hungry for.”

She bit her lower lip and slid a gaze to the closed pantry, making him both groan and laugh. “Bella.”

“Hey, you put the suggestion in my head.” She gave herself a visible shake. “Food. I have fresh croissants that are, if I may say so myself, out of this world.” She grabbed one from a tray on the counter and took a bite, moaning softly as sheer bliss crossed her face.

Last night, he'd seen that look directed at him.

Smiling softly, she held out the croissant. Deciding one hunger at a time, he leaned in for a bite, purposely nipping the tip of her finger.

She sucked in her breath, then let it out slowly while the croissant melted in his mouth, making him moan. She'd been right. Best croissant ever.

Willow came back into the kitchen. Her dark hair was spiked around her head today, and she'd put in more piercings than he could count this early. “Bella, honey,” she said, taking in Jacob. “He's wearing raspberry.”

Bella looked at Jacob's shirt. Dragging her teeth over her lower lip, she appeared to be fighting a smile. “Uh-oh,” she said. Grabbing Jacob by the shoulder, she nudged him into the tiny hallway between the kitchen and the dining area, and pushed him against the wall.

“What—” he started, but she cut him off.

With her lips.

He wasn't often surprised or caught off guard, but she kept doing both without effort. Staggered by the kiss, he slid one hand to the small of her back, the other to the back of her head, holding her to him while she kissed them both stupid, stealing conscious thought and detonating brain cells with equal aplomb.

Breaking for air, she murmured, “Morning. And can I just say, casual has never felt so good.”

He laughed softly. “No, it sure hasn't.”

“Come on.” She led him out to the dining area and with a pat on his ass, pointed him toward a bar stool.

A few catcalls rent the air, and shocked, Jacob looked around.

Most of the tables were full with the usual morning crowd seeking their sugar and caffeine rush.

“Ignore them,” Bella said loud enough for every one to hear. “Sit tight and I'll serve you. I had some trouble with the second batch of croissants, but the third batch is just about ready.”

The closest table had four women of varying ages starting at around eighty, and they were cackling like a gaggle of hens.

“Saw you come down the stairs,” the one with the candy-red lipstick said slyly, gesturing to the café's side window, where there was indeed a view of the building stairs. “From Bella's apartment.”

Great. He'd made the walk of shame with an audience.

The woman across from Red Lips arched a penciled-in brow. She had blue hair and her glasses were perched on the very tip of her nose as she looked Jacob over, giving him bad flashbacks to his Catholic-school days when he'd been regularly disciplined. He still twitched whenever he saw a nun.

But this was worse, especially since he would have sworn the two of them were licking their lips over him.

He shuddered inwardly and looked around for Bella. She'd deserted him.

“You have a little something there on your shirt,” Blue Hair said, getting up and adjusting her reading glasses, pressing her face so close to his chest her nose brushed him. “Looks like fruit sauce.”

Christ. He backed up, bumped hard into the counter behind him and rubbed at the stain, assuring himself they couldn't possibly have any idea what he and Bella had done with that raspberry sauce, which he was pretty sure was illegal in several states.

“Raspberry turnovers were yesterday's special,” Blue Hair announced shrewdly, lifting a hand to touch.

He ducked, dodged her, and then whirled around with a yelp when he felt a hand slide down his backside and pinch.

“Nice and firm,” Red Lips said wistfully. “They don't make 'em like that in my age group.”

He refused to run. But he walked very fast into the kitchen, realizing what he was. “I'm a piece of ass.”

“Yes,” Bella said, then came up behind him to whisper in his ear, “But you're one fine piece of ass.” She offered him a taste of something warm and chocolate and mouthwatering from a wooden spoon. When his mouth was full, she leaned in close and pressed hers to his rough jaw.

He sighed, having to shake his head. What the hell else could he do? “I really have to go.”

She lifted a brown bag. “I know. Breakfast to go.”

“Thanks.” He caught her before she could move away. “You'll call if anything feels off or weird.”

Her eyes laughed at him. “I'm pretty sure I've got the croissants under control now.”

“Not that, smart-ass.” He tugged on her hair. “If you see anything odd, or someone so much as looks at you cross-eyed, you'll call.” Unable to resist, he kissed her. He'd meant for it to be a light, easy kiss, but as usual, he'd underestimated her innate ability to drive him crazy.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been kissing her when he came up for air.

Her eyes were closed and she was wearing a dreamy smile. “Um,” she said, and opened those gorgeous eyes, staring at his mouth as if she wanted another.

“You'll call,” he repeated.

“Mmm, hmm.”

He ran his thumb over her lush lower lip. “I'm going to assume that was ‘Yes, Jacob, I'll call if anything seems off, or anyone so much as crosses their eyes at me.'”

With a smile, she pulled him down and kissed him again.

It was a diversion, but he couldn't summon irritation when it was such an effective one. She'd been right about one thing—casual had never felt so good. It took a shocking degree of control to remind himself that he'd only meant to make sure she was okay, that it was time to go, and even then he took a minute to press his face against her hair before walking out the door.

While he still could.

 

“Y
OU EVER GOING TO TELL
me about that kiss?” Willow asked Bella later that afternoon as they were cleaning up the shop after a day of brisk business. “What kiss?”

“The one you laid on Tall, Dark and Drop-dead Sexy earlier, the one that looked like something right out of a movie.” She fanned air in front of her face. “Goodness, it was hot. That man is hot. The way he cupped your jaw and looked at you for a beat before molding you to every single inch of him…” She slid Bella a long look. “And I have a feeling there are a lot of inches to him—”

“Willow!”

She grinned, unrepentant. “Sorry. I'll stop. It's giving me a hot flash anyway. But just tell me this much—you going to keep him?”

If I can,
Bella almost said, but squelched it. Casual. They were going for casual. She'd agreed. And casual didn't worry about things like keeping someone. “Undetermined at this time,” she finally said.

“Seriously? Because if someone was kissing me like that, I'd keep him. I'd keep him naked and handcuffed to my bed.”

Bella shook her head just as Trevor came in from the front room, carrying a heavy tray of dirty dishes. He looked like the typical California surfer boy with his deep tan and easy good looks. “Getting kinky again, Willow?” he asked with a wink.

“Not me. Bella.”

Bella rolled her eyes and headed to the door. “I'm out. I'm going for a swim.”

“Hold up.” Trevor flashed a smile her way. “You shouldn't swim out there alone,” he said. “I'm off, too, I'll come with.”

It wasn't a hardship to have his company. He was a strong swimmer, plus he was just damn fine scenery, all tanned and buff and gorgeous. His quick grin didn't hurt, either. But though she'd given some thought to him when she'd first come to Santa Rey, he was younger than her, and they worked together…and she'd decided against it. But no one could blame her for enjoying the view.

Still, she found herself yearning for the view
of another man, a big, bad, sexy detective named Jacob…

After the swim, she and Trevor sat on the sand. “Dinner?” he asked, tilting his head back to the warm sun.

She hesitated. Swimming as friends was one thing. But having dinner, too, might put it into another category. “Trev—”

“Just dinner, Bella.” He smiled. “Unless you plan on breaking my heart over sushi.”

“I'm taking a break from breaking hearts.”

“Didn't look that way this morning.”

She grimaced. “Don't ask me what I think I'm doing.”

He shrugged. “Hey, sometimes the heart wants what it wants.”

She sighed. “Yeah.” And sometimes the heart wanted what it couldn't have…

After they dried off, Trevor left to meet up with friends for that sushi he wanted, and Bella went back to her apartment to change out of her wet suit before going back down to the shop. She pulled on a halter sundress in deference to the heat and headed into the downstairs kitchen to make the dough for tomorrow's shortbread, wanting to give it time to rise. She'd just finished when she heard a knock on the front door. Moving through the tables, she saw a face pressed up against the window.

Tyler Scott, date number three. She knew his last name because he was a bookseller here in town. She'd
been fascinated by his brains and sheer volume of knowledge, and just a little bit intimidated.

But he was a good guy, a very nice guy, and so she opened the door with a smile. “Tyler, hi. I'm so sorry, but we're closed.”

“I know. I was just hoping…” He paused. “I know this is so rude of me to ask, but I'm heading to my mother's in San Luis Obispo and I'm expected to bring the dessert. I guess I was wondering if you wouldn't mind setting me up with something, but now I realize what an imposition it would be, and—”

“No. No imposition,” she said. “Let's go see what we have left over in the back.”

Five minutes later, she'd sold him a small chocolate sandwich cake, and she walked him back through the shop to the front door.

“My mom's going to take one bite of this and start harassing me to bring you home,” he teased.

Bella smiled. There was no doubt she enjoyed his company, but there was something pretty vital missing—the zing.

She'd never really pondered the mystery of the elusive zing until Jacob. Because, holy shit, she and Jacob had zing. They had real, gut-tightening, goose-bump-inducing, brain-cell-destroying zing, and they had it in spades. She hated to compare men, but she could honestly say that not a single one of the other seven guys she'd dated during the Eight Dates in Eight Days had come even close.