IMPULSE: Companion to The PULSE Series (9 page)

I tilt my head to the left. My hands immediately jump into the pockets of my pants. If I let them roam free one of them is going to connect with his face. It's him. Governor Thomas Lane is standing less than two feet away from me.

***

"I thought you left town." I don't motion for him to sit. I don't care if he stands. I just want the bastard out of my office and my girlfriend's life as soon as possible.

"Jessie told you that?" The name is remote and ill-suited to her. I've never viewed her as anyone but Jessica. Jessie is the person she was back in Connecticut. I've heard countless other people call her Jess or Jessie. I've always struggled to connect with that.

"Jessica told me she asked you to leave her alone," I say in an even tone. "Why the fuck are you still here?"

He chuckles. I stare at him as he finally lowers himself into the chair Mr. Wilkinson was just sitting in. I can see why Jessica was drawn to him. It's obvious he's attractive. He's older than me. I'd guess by more than a decade. His brown hair is showing the first touches of grey. His blue eyes are honed in on me. "You're an attorney."

It's a statement, not a question. He's either heard about me from Jessica or the man has done his research. "That's not news, Governor."

He tips his head in my direction. "Jessica told me about you."

I feel a rush of pride at the comment. She didn't try and hide the fact that she was involved with someone. "Why are you here?"

He leans forward in his chair. His voice takes on a whispered tone. "Did she explain the confidentiality agreement to you?"

I try in vain to temper my reaction to his words. He didn't just say that there's a confidentiality agreement in place? I scratch my finger behind my ear trying desperately to find something to say in response that isn't going to make me look like he just threw a sucker punch at me and hit me square between the eyes. "We don't have secrets."

"You do." He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair. His simple gold wedding band catches the overhead light as he shifts his hand. "If you don't, Jessie is in a lot of trouble."

I hate every single word that just came out of his vile mouth. I hate that his mouth has kissed her and touched her in places I have. "Is this why you came to New York?" My hand flies behind me to the bank of windows that overlook mid-town Manhattan. "You came here to intimidate Jessica?"

"I came here to remind her that she needs to keep her pretty little mouth shut." He snaps his fingers together with a loud pop. "She brought up something at the wedding that she's not permitted to talk about. I came here to remind her of the consequences if she shares that information with anyone."

There's no way in hell he's talking about their affair. I need clarification about what's going on. "Jessica signed an agreement?"

"She signed an agreement," he begins as he taps his index finger on the edge of my desk. "She also took a huge check for her …" his voice trails. A thin smile takes over his lips. "She took money in exchange for her silence. There's a small matter regarding our affair that she can never talk about."

I stare at his smug face. He's got me by the balls and he knows it. He didn't waltz in here to ask me if Jessica broke the confidentiality agreement that he made her sign. He came here specifically to throw their past relationship in my face. "You can leave." I motion towards the door of my office.

"You're a lucky man, Moore." He slowly pulls himself from the chair.

I don't respond. I don't move an inch. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"I've yet to meet a woman who knew how to blow me the way she did." The words are clear, cold and meant to rile me.

I rush to my feet. My hands knot into fists at my sides. "Get the fuck out," I hiss through clenched teeth.

He raises a hand. "When you see her, tell her I miss her."

"Shut the hell up you bastard," I call after him as he opens the door and steps through it without looking back.

"Jessica," I call her name before I've even got the door to the apartment open. "Jessica."

I step through into the entryway and realize immediately that she's already here. Her black flats rest near the doorway, her coat is tossed recklessly over the back of the couch and her purse is sitting on the small table next to the door.

My intention was to come home immediately after that fucking asshole, Thomas, left my office. I wanted to come here and decompress before I went to the restaurant. In my mind, I saw myself confronting her there, at work. It was a plan with no merit. Thankfully, I was called into a meeting about the Wilkinson case. I've spent the past three hours listening to numbers being tossed around, along with terms. I'm getting close to a settlement. I should be happy but the only thought that has been running through my mind is what Jessica agreed to be quiet about. What the fuck happened between her and the Governor?

I slide my suit jacket off before I call her name once more. I'm greeted with nothing but dead silence. She's somewhere in this apartment ignoring me. I bet that asshole called her after leaving my office to give her a heads-up. She knows I know about their agreement. She's going to be ready, with emotional guns blazing, to counter everything I say.

I head down the hallway, stopping first at the master bedroom. The bed is made. She pulled the linens back into place this morning after we'd gotten up. I wanted to fuck her the moment she opened her eyes, but she had lazily rolled out of the bed to make coffee. I didn't want to believe that she was avoiding sex on purpose, but it was feeling more and more like that every day.

I turn on my heel and dart my eyes into my office. She's not there either. It doubles as a guest room and that bed looks untouched too. I stand in place, listening intently. I hear the faint sound of water running. I bolt down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. I swing open the door to a haze of steam.

"Jessica," I say her name blindly into the space. "Jessica, I'm here."

The only response is the veiled sound of sobbing. She's crying. I can hear her labored breaths. Christ, what the fuck has got her so torn up? What is Thomas holding over her head?

I step closer to the marble shower stall. I look down to where her chef's jacket and black pants are tossed on the floor. Her bra and panties are settled on the floor nearby. "Jessica," I whisper her name into the space. I don't want to alarm her. I don't want to scare her back into herself. She's vulnerable right now. She's open and raw. I need to get her to trust me. I want an explanation for what's going on with her and that fucking Governor.

"I'm home," I call into the stall. I can see the outline of her body through the fogged glass of the door. "Jessica, I'm here."

The sobbing stops abruptly. "I'm just having a shower." Her voice is muted. I can tell she's covering her mouth with her hand, trying to curb her emotions.

I swing open the door. She's not facing me. Her hands are gathered over her face. She's pressing her body into the damp wall, the water beating a path down her
bareback.

"Jessica," I reach through the spray to touch her skin, not caring that the arm of my shirt is now drenched. "Please, Jessica, tell me what's going on."

She recoils when my fingers brush over her skin. She steps to the side knowing that she's out of my reach. "I just need a few more minutes." The words are soft and steady.

"No." I step into the shower, the water
barreling down on me, soaking all my clothes instantly. My hands are on her back, pulling her into my chest. "You're falling apart inside, Jessica. Let me help you."

Any resistance she may have felt washes down the drain with the water. She falls into my body, her hands grasping tightly to mine as they circle her waist.

"Tell me, Jessica," I whisper into her ear. "Tell me what's happening."

She turns instantly and her hands are on my shirt. She's pulling at the buttons, trying desperately to rid me of my clothes. I try to catch her hands. I need her to stop. I can't want her right now. My cock can't respond the way it is. I'm hard just from staring at her nude, wet body.

"Don't." I grip tightly to her wrists. "Don't make this about sex."

Her eyes catch mine with a heated gaze. "You want me," she whispers against my lips. "You want me, Nathan."

I do. I can't deny that. It would be an obvious lie. My cock is straining against my pants. I want to push her against the shower wall, pull her thighs around my waist and drill my cock into her until she's screaming my name. I want that more than anything in this moment.

Her lips are on mine before I have time to think. She slides her tongue over my bottom lip, forcing its way into my mouth. I grip her hair, tilting her head so I can claim more of her with the kiss. She melts into my touch.

"Please, fuck me, Nathan." The words fall from her lips into mine. "I need to feel you inside of me."

My better judgement falls to the wayside as I pull my soaked clothes from me. I'm on my knees in front of her, drawing her smooth legs apart. I hoist the left one over my shoulder. I don't waste a moment before I graze my tongue over her moist folds.

She juts her hips out as her back presses into the shower wall. The warm water continues beating down on us both. I can't stop myself. I've been craving the taste of her for days. I need to give her this. I have to show her that I want her. I need her to feel that we're still connected on this very basic level.

"Yes," she whispers into the heated space.

I take my time, carefully twirling my tongue over her clit. I know that she likes it slow and steady. She loves when I build up the tension by drawing the orgasm slowly out of her. I pull my tongue down, darting into her entrance, scooping up the sweet desire that is already flowing out of her. She's wet. Even though we're in the shower, and the water is coursing over us both, I can tell that she's so wanting. She needs to come. I need to give that to her.

"Please, like that." The words fall from her lips as her hands twist in my wet hair. She pulls sharply in an effort to guide my tongue back to her clit.

I give her everything she wants. I lick my index finger slowly before pushing it into her slick channel. I stroke it in and out at an even pace as I twist her swollen bud around my tongue. I lick her harder and faster. Her sex clenches around my finger so I slide another in. She's so tight. Her body is involuntarily responsive to mine.

Her hips buck slightly as she nears her release. "Nathan, please." Her voice gets lost in the beat of the water on my back.

I pull her clit between my teeth while I pound my fingers in and out of her pussy. I sense her body tense. I feel the wetness around my hand as she throws her head back and a deep moan escapes from her as the orgasm washes slowly through her body.

I don't move. I keep licking, probing and sucking. I need another. I want to hear her call my name again. She's giving me as much in this moment as I'm giving her. I feel close to her. We're connected in this small space in the most primal way.

I hear her head hit the shower wall again as her entire body convulses in a long, slow orgasm. I hold tight to her waist, letting her come down from the edge with my lips still against her. I finally feel her leg go limp on my shoulder. I carefully pull it down.

"Fuck me, Nathan." It's a statement, not a request. There's no urgency behind it anymore. The need that was so apparent in her voice when I first stepped in the shower isn't there anymore. She's not yearning for my body to be in hers. Frankly, I'm not anymore either. Hearing her come and feeling the desire flow through her body is all the satisfaction I need right now. I just want to hold her. I want her to know she can trust me, with not only her body, but her secrets too.

I stand and pull her into my chest. I hold her against me as her breathing finally levels. I skim my lips across her forehead. "Do you want to get out now?"

She only nods against me in response. Her hands still cling tightly to my waist. I have to reach behind her to turn off the shower. I pull her with me. I can't let her go.

I hear the whimper before I feel it run through her. She sobs briefly, her hands moving from my waist to my chest. She taps her hands against me. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I stroke her damp hair as we stand there, clinging to each other in the nude. "Tell me."

"I can't." There's anger woven into the response. It's not directed at me. I can sense that immediately. She's fighting with herself.

I open the door and we both recoil from the cool air that juts into the shower stall.  I grab a large white towel. I wrap it around her, pulling her back into my body. "Let's get you dressed."

She shakes her head. "No. I want to go to bed."

I've lost track of time but I know it's no later than seven. She worked the lunch shift
today, which means she got off at six. I left my office shortly after that. "You want to go to bed?"

"I want you to hold me."

I can't argue the point. It's exactly what I want to. I guide her out of the shower before I grab another towel. I dry every inch of her body carefully while she watches me in silence. I wrap the towel I used to soak the water from her around my own waist.