To Hiss or to Kiss (22 page)

In my dreams my face is suddenly wet. It feels oddly like a dog tongue. Wait, a dog? I put out my hands to ward off the lapping tongue, which just gets transferred to my hands. I squint an eye open and see Ringo. What? Ringo’s here? If he’s here, then…Jorge.

I bolt upright, suddenly very awake. My sleep-encrusted eyes try to focus.

“Hey, sleepy head.”

I whip my head toward the sound and drink in Jorge sitting in one of the two Adirondack chairs on his porch. His voice is light and teasing, but his face is drawn, his eyes guarded. He’s wearing jeans and a wrinkled black T-shirt. He looks more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him, but then I’m sure I’m no beauty prize right now either. I still think he’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hey.” My scratchy morning voice is barely audible. I want to say something to erase the wariness in his eyes, but my sleep-addled brain refuses to work.

Finally he breaks the silence. “It’s good to see you.” He sounds so vulnerable.

“You too. I’m starving and I hope you have some good food in there. Not that I mean I’m glad to see you just so I can get breakfast…” Heat rises up my neck. I hope I haven’t just screwed this up—again.

Jorge starts laughing, breaking off my negative thoughts. It’s perhaps the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I look up at him and smile. He’s standing over me, offering me a hand to rise. “Come on. Let’s get you up and fed. Someone once told me you can be pretty bitchy when you’re hungry.” His emerald eyes sparkle with the mischief I remember. He helps me up and I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him close. He circles my waist with his arms.

I open my mind and knock, and this time he’s there, ready and waiting to connect with me. Relief has me sinking into his arms even deeper.
“God, I love you.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, too,” he whispers, his breath rustling my hair.

We get lost in the moment. I know there is a lot we need to work through and it will take time, but there is no way I’m letting this relationship fail. For now, though, I let myself feel the elation of being back in Jorge’s arms.

Eventually, a dog wiggles his head between us.
“Hey.”
I hear Hector’s voice in my head.
“Now that you two are OK, what about some love for the rest of us? We missed you, too!”

I giggle and pull back from Jorge’s embrace, dropping my arms. “Looks like someone else needs some love.”

“Guess that’s my cue to go make breakfast.” Jorge reluctantly releases me.

I watch the lovely view of his backside as he disappears into the house, because now that we passed the awkward-reunion part, my hormones are kicking into overdrive.

Hector nudges me again. I sink down to my knees and kiss his head. I scratch behind his ears.
“Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”
A look of sheer bliss crosses his face.

Not to be outdone, Ringo comes over and flops down for a belly rub. I reach for him with my free hand but get in only a few pats before John flips up my arm with his muzzle so I will pet him. I laugh.
“Play nice, you guys. Everyone can get some love.”

Raul noses his way in and then suddenly all four dogs are crowding my face. A chorus of
“we love you,” “we missed you,” “you’re staying with us now, right?”
echoes in my head.

I pull them all into a bear hug.
“I missed you and love you guys, too. And I plan to stay if Jorge will have me.”
They bathe my face with their tongues, then I push away to stand.
“I think it’s time for you to go play now. I’ve got a breakfast to eat.”

At that they all run off, exploring their home. Our home.

I smile as I walk to the kitchen, where Jorge’s making bacon. “That smells good.” My rumbling stomach echoes my words.

“I hear.” He grins, glancing toward my stomach then back up to my face.

I laugh, but the lightness doesn’t remain. There is too much that still needs to be said between us. I stand by him, chewing my lip. I run my hands through my hair.

Jorge looks over at me while continuing to turn the bacon. “What?” His eyebrow arches in that sexy way.

I meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you.”

He drops the spatula and turns to me. “I know. I’m sorry too. I didn’t give you any reason to trust me. I kept insisting we couldn’t go after the dogs, that it was too dangerous.” He puts a hand on my cheek, and I lean into it unconsciously. “It’s just that when I thought of you in danger, my protection instinct went into overdrive. I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t listening to you.”

“Would you have gone with me if I woke you up?”

“In a heartbeat.”

I don’t quite believe that, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

“OK, OK. Maybe I would’ve argued a little.” He grins again, and it lights up his face.

“I appreciate that but I’m still sorry. And it’s more than just not waking you up. Even before that I was pulling away. I can’t seem to help it. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Jorge brushes a finger over my lips to get me to stop talking. “There’s nothing wrong with you. And we’re both sorry. Now we move on.”

The intensity in his eyes burns me up, and I’ve never felt so adored. Heat creeps up my neck and face because I’m also more than a little embarrassed at the raw passion and love in his expression. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and scary, and I’m starting to feel a little weak in the knees.

Jorge tweaks my nose. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

My blush gets worse. I still rather hate my capillaries. To cover, I turn and grab the spatula to turn the neglected bacon. Jorge takes the hint and starts to cook the eggs, but I swear I hear a low chuckle rumble through his chest. Bacon flipped, I decide to make tea to get a little breathing room.

As I’m waiting for the water to boil, he comes over and places a hand on my back. “Hey. I’m sorry about Gracie.”

“Me too. But it worked out OK.”

“You sound calm. Am I missing something?”

“Yeah. A few days ago, Gracie’s ghost came to me. We’re working together to go after animal abusers, which reminds me, I need to get on the Internet.”

“What?” Jorge calls after my retreating back. “You can’t just drop that and walk out of the room. And I can’t leave the eggs unless you want a burned breakfast.”

“No, it’s all good. I’ll explain, but I left my first anonymous tip with the police last night,” I call from the living room, helping myself to Jorge’s laptop. “I need to see if it worked.”

“OK, but I have a lot of questions.”

I murmur something, but I’m consumed by waiting for the news Web site to load. And there it is, right on the front page, top story. “Dogfight ring busted. Four arrested. Twenty dogs seized.” I read on to see that the dogs were all transferred to the city’s humane society to be cared for until the trial is complete.

It worked. It
worked
. I let out a squeal of excitement.

Jorge walks into the room. “I take it it’s good news.”

“Yep.” I turn the laptop to him triumphantly.

He skims the article. “So are those people associated with the bastards down the street?”

“Gracie said they were. And I’m pretty sure one of those guys is the one you knocked out.”

“Good. The fuckers deserve to rot in jail.”

“You’re cute when you’re all growly and sweary.”

“Sweary? I don’t think that’s word.” He sinks down beside me and kisses my cheek.

“Maybe not, but it did make you smile.” I think making him grin might become one of my missions in life. Good for him to be happy, good for me to melt into delicious daydreams. Our eyes lock, and I get lost in the emerald glow. I notice little flecks of gold at the edges of his irises and wonder if anyone else has ever noticed that about Jorge. Guess it’s OK if it was his parents. What about other girlfriends? I don’t know if he’s ever been in love before. I start to feel unsettled and look away, letting the jealousy eat away at my self-confidence.

Thankfully, the timer for the tea goes off. Jorge rises and offers me a hand. “Let’s go eat.”

He’s not grinning anymore, and I know he picked up on my nerves. The last thing I want to do is hurt him, so I put a lid on it and man up. Smiling, I take his hand.

“It’s about time.” I laugh, and so does he, letting me off the hook for now.

* * *

Over breakfast I explain to him the system Gracie and I worked out. He’s duly impressed. After wolfing down the eggs and bacon and gratefully sipping tea, I stretch. “I seriously need a shower.”

“No comment. I’m not walking into that trap,” he teases. “Although I could use a shower myself.”

“Maybe we can share.” I try to make it sound sexy and nonchalant, but it comes out sounding shy and vulnerable. I start to blush, which is just ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t flirted before—or had sex.

“Now that’s an opening I just might take.” He does a much better job of sounding sexy.

Determined to get my mojo back, I stand and sashay out of the room. I hear him follow behind me.

At the bathroom door, I turn and stop him. “Join me in a minute.” Then I close the door in his face. I open my mind, making contact with his. He’s already undressing me in his mind, but I help fill in the gaps, watching myself undress in the mirror. His arousal is so strong through our connection.

I turn on the water.
“Just a minute more. Let me get in the shower first.”

When the water’s warm enough, I turn on the spray and step in.

In the blink of the eye, Jorge’s in the bathroom, his clothes in a trail behind him. His head pokes into the shower.

I smile. “That was fast.”

“Perk of the jaguar. And I was a bit impatient to get my hands on you, my lovely tease.” And then he’s fully in the shower, kissing me with such passion I can barely stay upright. His tongue is demanding in its insistence to explore my mouth.

I don’t argue. Neither does my tongue.

As he deepens the kiss, I become impossibly wet—and not just from the steamy water pouring over my shoulders.

“Let me wash you, starting with your hair.” His lips still brush mine.

I’m too breathless to do anything but nod. I don’t even have the wherewithal to answer through our bond. I am breathless and horny as hell, but there is something different between us. This isn’t just sex. This is intimacy. This is sacred. This is beautiful. This is for always, and I’m all in forever. I meet his gaze and see my thoughts reflected in his eyes.

“Yes, it is.”
It’s a whisper in my head.

I didn’t even realize I’d projected my thoughts, our connection is so open and easy at this moment.

He brushes my lips with his, then pulls back. He gently tilts my head back so the water soaks my hair while he runs his fingers through it. Then he lathers, massaging my head. The movements of his fingers send pleasant electricity straight to my core. He rinses, then grabs the body wash. He rubs his soapy hands over my body, washing every inch of me with exquisite care.

I close my eyes, lost in the sensations. I let myself go, the love I feel for him certain. There is no panic, no second-guessing. Those emotions and thoughts may come again, but for now I relish the freedom I’ve given myself to love wholly and completely. The freedom Jorge has given me to feel safe enough to let my walls down.

He brings me back with another soft kiss brushed across my lips.

I open my eyes, a lazy grin crossing my face. “What, no conditioner?” My teasing tone is light and breathy.

“Another offer I can’t refuse.” He grins that sexy grin of his and squeezes conditioner into his hands then works it through my hair. When he rinses, I feel the slick conditioner sliding down my body. He runs his hands down my torso. “Mmm. I think I like having you in the shower all wet and slippery.”

“The conditioner helps with that.”

“Indeed.” He moves closer, his erection rubbing against my stomach. He thrusts his hips. “I love slipping and sliding on you.”

His voice is sexy but I can’t help but giggle a little. “And in me?” I bat my eyelashes in exaggeration.

“We’ll get there.” He laughs and runs his hands through my hair. “I think you’re about rinsed.”

My hands trace the lines of his back and come to rest at the base of his spine. “Good. Then it’s my turn to wash you.”

We spin, not breaking our body contact until Jorge’s standing under the water. I decide to start with his body because I can’t wait to get my hands all over him. Soaping them, I run up and down his muscled torso. I spend a little extra time making sure his balls and penis are extra clean, but he doesn’t seem to mind. After standing on my tiptoes and still having trouble reaching the top of his head, he concedes to wash his own hair.

As soon as he’s rinsed, though, he lifts me easily and presses me into the wall of the shower, one arm behind my back as a cushion. He kisses me breathless again, and my legs wrap around his waist. I’m more than ready when he enters me. With his free hand he palms my breasts, kissing down my neck.

He increases his pace and I find his neck with my lips, kissing and licking. As the orgasm takes me, I bite down on his neck. He grunts, then joins me in climax. The thrust of his hips slows and stops, and he holds me there. My head rests on his shoulder and I cling to him and he to me, the steamy water washing over us in soothing waves. It feels so natural, so right to be in his arms.

I don’t want to leave this moment, but eventually the water begins to cool, and he gently lowers me to stand next to him. He shuts off the water and then grabs a towel. Oh so gently he pats me dry. I feel utterly cared for and safe. No one has ever given me that gift, and I send him gratitude through our bond, through my gaze.

Fully dry, I take his towel and return the favor. I’ve never taken care of anyone this way either—never felt I could be this tender, this vulnerable with anyone. This man has changed everything for me, and I hope I’ve done the same for him.

I must broadcast that thought, because he pulls me into a hug. “No one else has, Chloe. You’re the only woman who has ever loved me this way. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved this way.”