Razor's Edge (3 page)

“Very pretty.”

The admiration in Jack’s voice flowed through Rachel in a warm rush of pleasure. He blew a gentle stream of air over her and she whimpered.

“And so sensitive,” he murmured. “Your clit is peeping out at me, greedy thing.”

“Tease,” she accused.

“Teases don’t deliver.” Licking his lips, he leaned in. “I’m going to make you come so hard the neighbors will hear you.”

He paused for an endless second, making her wait. When she was about to scream, he stroked the flat of his tongue across her. Biting back a cry, Rachel fought to remain standing. Her hands shook as she kept herself spread for him, her knees threatening to buckle.

“You better hold on to me,” he warned darkly, then he dove full force for the aching flesh between her thighs.

Wielding the point of his tongue like a lash, Jack caught the tip of her distended clitoris and fluttered over it with lightning quickness. She climaxed with a low moan, the orgasm tearing through her senses with a force she never knew she could withstand. Her body was wracked by violent shudders, her toes curling painfully into the hardwood floor.

And he didn’t let up. His grip on her ass tightened and he tongued her like a man possessed, his hungry growls throwing her headlong into a second climax directly on the heels of the first. Incited by his wildness, she caught his head by the sweat-dampened roots of his hair and rode his working mouth. She took what she needed, grinding against his wickedly skilled tongue. Shameless in her pleasure, she didn’t care who heard or saw her. The only thing that mattered was Jack and what he was doing to her.

When the rush ebbed, it took all of her energy with it. She sagged into the wall, gasping for air and trembling.

Jack stood and lifted her over his shoulder, then turned back toward the couch. When she regained the ability to speak, she was going to tell him again how hot his caveman tendencies were to her. Or maybe she’d just show him . . .

He sat her down on the armrest of the couch and stepped between her knees. With a hand behind her head, he urged her backward, balancing her so that her torso hung suspended over the cushions.

With no leverage whatsoever, Rachel could only accept what he gave her—the teasing glide of his tongue along the seam of her lips . . . the nip of his teeth at her jaw . . . the questing of his fingers as they parted her again and pushed through oversensitive tissues . . .

“Jack.” Rachel caught him by the belt loops, arching helplessly into his grip.

His fingers curved upward inside her, stroking, searching. She writhed, her abdominal muscles so tense they cramped. The anticipation was a torment all its own, as was the illicitness of their location. The couch was set in front of the sliding glass doors to take advantage of the ocean view. The slanting moonlight ended at the base of the sofa, only an inch or two away from the shadows where Jack fucked his fingers into her.

“There.” His mouth curved wickedly as he tapped against her G-spot. “Let’s see what happens first: I make you come, or you get into my pants.”

Rachel really wanted to win. She wanted to see what he looked like, what he felt like. But she was a mess. Emotionally. Physically. And he had a head start. As she fumbled to rip open his button fly, he pressed and rubbed with his roughened fingertips. Fingertips that were strong enough to hold his entire body weight while rock climbing, yet were achingly gentle with her.

She’d barely freed his cock from the restrictive denim when the orgasm hit her. Moaning, she instinctively tried to pull away from the overload of sensation, but he held her immobile and made her take it. He leaned over her as she quaked, pressing his lips to her ear and crooning words she could barely hear over the rushing of blood in her ears.
Let go . . . I have you . . . You’re safe with me . . .
His hand thrust and twisted between her legs, the relentlessness so at odds with the gentle tone of his voice. It felt so much like a feral sort of claiming, a branding, a demand that she surrender to him completely.

That man will never accept anything less than one hundred percent of a woman’s soul,
her much wiser mother-in-law once said. Rachel used to wonder what kind of woman would be strong enough to share so much of herself. Now, she knew. She went slack in his arms, embracing her newfound fortitude and turning herself over to the passionate side of Jack she’d fantasized about.

“Rachel,” he murmured, the one word filled with an aching tenderness. His fingers left her.

She exhaled audibly. “I want to feel you. Inside me.”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“It’s okay. I got back on the pill two months ago, the day after you made plans to come out here.”

His breath hissed out between his teeth.

Rachel cupped his cheek. “You never stood a chance.”

The kiss he gave her was fierce and passionate, relaying so much more than lust and desire. She clung to him, soaking up the flood of emotion from a man known for his reserve and austerity.
This
was why she could blossom for him, why she felt fearless and audacious. They were so much alike in that way, their still waters running deeper than most.

Jack broke the kiss, breathing heavily. He moved her with unsteady hands, turning her so she draped bonelessly over the couch arm, her back to his front.

She’d never felt more emotionally raw or physically vulnerable. When she heard the rustle of his jeans, her hands fisted beside her head. She stared sightlessly out the open patio door, feeling the cool evening air flowing over her damp skin. There was no longer any tension in her, no resistance, no aggression. When Jack cupped her inner thigh, she widened the spread of her legs of her own volition, needing a deeper physical connection to him.

His hand stroked down her spine, then up again. “You okay?”

Rachel gave a jerky nod.

He brushed her sweat-soaked bangs away from her forehead and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. “Can you take more?”

She reached behind her to cup the back of his thigh. Feeling the bunching of his jeans, she realized he’d only bothered to push them down just enough to gain the access he needed. The image of how they must look—she, drowsy and naked; he, tautly focused and partially dressed—sparked a renewed flare of desire. “Yes.”

Jack straightened and a heartbeat later she felt the broad, plush head of his cock tuck into the clenching opening of her pussy. He was so hot and hard as steel. The feel of him made her bite her lip while the first slow push had her clawing at the white slipcover.

“Easy.” He restrained her hips with a firm yet gentle grip. “Just relax. You’re nice and soft now. Let it happen.”

He couldn’t know what he was asking of her. As the wide crown breached the tautly stretched entrance to her body, the intense feeling of possession was overwhelming.

“Oh God . . .” she breathed, every nerve ending electrified by the leisurely thrusts with which he worked his cock into her.

If she hadn’t been so languid, Rachel doubted she could have taken him. As it was, the stretching was so acute she swore she could feel every ridge and vein, every beat of his racing pulse. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She was grateful to be facing away from him, needing to shield the raw emotion she knew must be visible on her face. She couldn’t scare him away now. Not after this.

Bending his knees, Jack pushed the final few inches inside her. She buried her face in the sofa cushion to muffle her plaintive moan. He was so thick and hard. Every shuddering breath she took made her feel how deep he was.

She felt his tongue slide upward along her back, then a sharp possessive bite at her shoulder.

“Rachel,” he whispered, reaching beneath her to cup her breasts in his large hands. Clutching her to his heaving chest, he began to move. Withdrawing partway, then gliding home. Being far too careful, as if she was breakable. Although she felt as if she might shatter, she didn’t want his restraint. Not when she’d started falling apart the moment he’d touched her.

She threw her hips back at him. “Fuck me. Don’t play with me!”

Jack stilled, which allowed her to feel the fine tremors in his hands and thighs. As deliberate as he seemed, his body betrayed him—he was leashed, but only barely.

As much as she was able, she tightened her inner muscles around the rigid cock throbbing within her.

He cursed and gripped her tighter. “Rachel . . . damn it.”

“Now!”

Hunching over her, he pulled his hips back, then slammed deep. The weight of his heavy sack smacked against her clit, sending fire racing along her skin in a prickling wave.

“Is that what you want?” He flexed inside her, teasing nerve endings she hadn’t known she possessed. “How hard do you want it?”

“Yes—”

He was fucking her before she finished. His hips thrusting and churning, shafting her tender pussy with hard, heavy drives.

She climaxed with his arms wrapped around her, holding her as she sobbed with the pleasure. He groaned as she rippled around him, joining her, jerking violently with every hot thick spurt. His cheek pressed tightly to her temple and the scent of his skin surrounded her, filling her mind along with her name.

As he emptied himself inside her, it was her name he repeated in a jagged litany, spoken in a serrated voice that pushed her over the razor’s edge of infatuation into something far more dangerous.

Somehow, she’d managed to get under his skin. She intended to stay there.

Jack tucked one arm behind his head and watched as the ceiling lightened incrementally with the rise of the sun. Rachel lay sleeping on the bed beside him, the white cotton sheet tangled around her torso. Her lips were slightly parted, as if in expectation of a kiss, and he fought the urge to wake her and have her again.

He wasn’t certain what time she needed to get up to prepare for Riley’s party, but it was barely six, so he figured she could sleep for at least another couple hours yet. She needed it. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her breasts were reddened by the scratch of his whiskers. When she’d been curled on her side, he saw the faint indentation of his teeth in her shoulder.

Damn it. She was too tender and soft for him to lose control with her—both emotionally and physically. Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. And he’d made a gross tactical miscalculation. In the light of day, he was no longer willing to be a one-night stand.

She’d been planning on going to bed with him for months . . .

Fuckin’ A. Just thinking about it tore him up.

Yes, Rachel deserved better than him, but he could make some adjustments and sacrifices, he could learn what she needed and give his best shot at delivering. He could show her that he could make love to her slowly, sweetly. Take his time. Let her set the pace. He had no option other than to try; he couldn’t pretend last night never happened. Maybe she’d come into it because of Steve, but he could give her a reason to stick with it.

Too wired to sleep, Jack slipped carefully from the bed and dressed for a run. He hit the beach and tried to clear his head.

He’d never been good with words.

Now he needed to find the right ones to change the rest of his life.

RACHEL
woke to the sound of the shower running. She smelled coffee and smiled, relishing the intimacy of sharing her morning with another adult. Rolling to her side, she searched for a clock and found one on the nightstand on Jack’s side of the bed. It was turned away from her, so she crawled over and moved it. Seven forty-five.

Beside the clock was Jack’s badge and billfold. She stared at the silver star, feeling a rush of pride and respect. He was a Shadow Stalker, a member of the U.S. Marshals Service’s elite Special Operations Group. He’d explained the nickname to her once—the Shadow Stalkers unit hunted dangerous fugitives, or “shadows,” and waited in the shadows of federal courthouses during high-profile cases. His job suited him so well that she couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. She certainly would never ask him to give it up, even though the thought of losing him terrified her.

Reaching for the badge, she accidentally knocked the wallet to the floor. It landed on its back and flopped open. Her smiling face stared up at her.

She got out of bed. Bending down, she picked the billfold up. It felt wrong to pry, but she couldn’t resist. Whose image did he carry with him? Who were the important people in his life?

Rachel turned each plastic photo protector slowly, touched to see pictures of Steve and Riley along with ones of her. But when she reached the end and found only one photo that wasn’t of her family—one with several guys in bulletproof vests and sunglasses—she frowned. There were no pictures of parents or siblings, or nieces and nephews. No photos of himself with anyone.

Her heart broke a little. “Jack,” she whispered, wondering if he felt as alone as he suddenly seemed to her.

She’d known that Jack grew up in foster care, but she’d assumed he formed some lasting connections with someone. Anyone. Was it possible he hadn’t?

If she and Riley were all he had, no wonder he was wary and reluctant. It certainly wasn’t from lack of desire.

Standing, she walked to the master bathroom. She gave a cursory knock, then cracked the door open. “Hey.”

“Good morning.”

His voice was warm and purring. The shower was enclosed with frosted glass, affording her just enough of a glimpse of his perfect body to light her up. She could get used to this.

“Coffee’s brewed,” he said. “I picked up some of that sugar-free hazelnut creamer you like.”

Sweatpants and a sweat-stained T-shirt lay piled on the floor. She couldn’t believe he’d exercised after their exertions the night before. She felt like an underachiever. She also felt loved and cared for.

Jack paid attention to her and the things she liked in ways she hadn’t fully appreciated until Steve was gone. The flowers he sent weekly were either calla lilies, stargazer lilies, or tulips—her favorites. How did he know that? Perhaps Steve mentioned it. But her favorite Luzianne chicory coffee, which had to be ordered? Or her favorite hand cream, Japanese Cherry Blossom Shea Cashmere, the smell of which was usually hidden by her perfume? Even Steve, the one person who’d known her better than anyone, couldn’t remember that.

Maybe Jack’s attention to detail was just part of who he was and the job he did. After all, the U.S. Marshals Service was responsible for the Witness Security Program. Maybe the little things he remembered about her were things he’d pick up on anyone, part of the process of wiping a person’s identity and erasing identifying habits. But maybe something more personal was involved. She hoped so, because she’d started falling in love with him over those gifts and how they made her feel. After years of having everything she loved denigrated and belittled by her aunt until she didn’t enjoy anything at all, Jack had taught her to celebrate the things that made her happy.

Smiling at the thought, she bent down and picked up after him, grabbing his clothes and taking them out to the hamper in the bedroom. It wasn’t a task she was particularly fond of usually, but she was beginning to think Jack could use a little looking after. Besides, he’d made the coffee. She was willing to trade quite a bit for the pleasure of waking up to freshly brewed coffee.

“Would you totally gross out,” she asked, returning to the bathroom, “if I use your toothbrush?”

“Go for it.”

Rachel was rinsing her mouth out when Jack turned off the water in the shower. Straightening, she turned and faced him, determined to catch the view. The door slid open. A dripping wet and gorgeously naked Jack appeared, and she gave an appreciative whistle. He was perfectly sculpted from head to toe. And the package in the middle, impressive even while semi-erect, made her hot and needy. She could
seriously
get used to this.

His mouth twitched with suppressed amusement as he reached for the towel hanging on the wall. He’d shaved and looked less rogue warrior and more
GQ
cover model. She loved both looks on him.

“Wait.” She stepped closer, licking her lower lip.

Jack’s eyes filled with a heat that made her flush. His arm dropped back to his side. “I’m all yours.”

JACK
held his position despite the seemingly endless insurgence.

As if Rachel sensed his wariness, she’d brought him a beer earlier, hiding it from the multitude of underage eyes with an insulated bottle cozy. He didn’t touch it, knowing from experience that it was best to stay razor sharp when surrounded by unknowns.

From the safety of the grill, he eyed the dozen or so eight-year-olds running around the patio of Rachel’s small two-story condominium. It was a madhouse, but he didn’t feel as out of place as he’d expected he would. That was certainly because of Rachel, who smiled at him often and made a point of including him.

“Jack.”

He turned his head and smiled down at Riley, who looked so much like his dad. Riley had the same smiling sloe eyes and cheerful grin, the same quick laugh and desire to help others. “Hey, sport. Having fun?”

“Totally. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“My Aunt Stella says you like my mom.”

He glanced at the picnic table, where most of the Tse family was gathered. “I do.”

“Like her like a girlfriend. You know, kissing and stuff.”

“Oh?” Jack focused on the burgers and hot dogs grilling in front of him.

“She says guys only pay attention to what kind of coffee creamer a girl likes when she’s his girlfriend.”

Not knowing how to reply, Jack just nodded slowly and shot another glance at Rachel. She was talking about him to the Tses. He hoped that was working in his favor.

“So it’s true?” Riley pressed. “Is my mom your girlfriend?”

“Uh . . .” Jack blew out his breath. “How would you feel about that? Is that bugging you?”

“No. Will you be coming around more? I think you should come around more.”

“I’m going to be working on that. I’d like to spend more time with you. There are some things your dad and I used to do together—fishing, golfing, taking some Sea-Doos out to Havasu . . . I think you’ll enjoy those same things.”

“Sea-Doos?” Riley’s dark eyes lit up. “Really? That would be so cool!”

“We’ll have to make plans, then.”

Riley ran off, shouting at his friends, but skid to a halt a few feet away and came back. “Watch out for Aunt Stella,” he said in a stage whisper. “She says if mom doesn’t snatch you up, she will. She’s cool, but . . . well . . .”

“Got it.” Jack somehow managed to keep his face impassive. “Thanks for the tip.”

Watching his godson run off, Jack rocked back on his heels and felt hopeful. If the Tses were endorsing him, he had a chance in hell. He’d take it.

His cell phone rang and his light mood sank like a stone. Pulling it out of his pocket, he answered, “Killigrew.”

“Hey, Jack.” Gary Lancet’s grim voice was like a cold shower. “I’m sorry to interrupt you on leave, but I figured you’d kick my ass if you found out after you got back.”

Jack set down the tongs he’d been using to turn the hot dogs. “What is it?”

“One of Terry’s old collars went to his house. Fucked the place up and killed his dog. Callie’s a mess.”

“Jesus. Are she and the kids okay?”

“Yeah, they’re shaken up but fine. It’s a miracle they weren’t home at the time. Her damn radiator hose took a shit on the way back from picking them up from school. Otherwise . . . Well, it could have been a lot worse.”

Looking at Rachel and the festive scene around him, Jack finally felt the sensation of being the odd man out. He should have felt it earlier. His life, such as it was, didn’t fit here. He’d forgotten that for a while. The grisly reminder was a timely one. He hadn’t yet laid his heart on the line; retracting it would have been a lot harder than just bailing early. “Am I needed?”

“We’ve got it covered. I just knew you’d want to know.”

“Absolutely. Tell Terry to call me if he needs anything. I still have some things to wrap up here, but nothing that can’t wait.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

Jack hung up and stared at the phone for a long minute. Just imagining what Terry must be going through made his gut knot. Thinking about a close call like that happening to Rachel and Riley about doubled him over. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the coolness of the northern California weather. He rubbed at the tightness in the center of his chest. “Shit.”

Rachel’s voice came from behind him. “Is everything all right?”

He turned, grateful for the sunglasses shielding his eyes. “Something’s gone down back home.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “Do you have to go?”

Facing her disappointment only strengthened his resolve to stop being selfish. He had to think of her first. “Not yet.”

Her chin lifted. “I’d understand if you had to go. Riley would, too.”

“You shouldn’t have to understand.”

One of her brows arched. “Really? Says who?”

“Let’s not do this now.”

“Later, then. Right after this is over.”

It was already over. Not that it ever really had a chance to begin.

RACHEL
picked up the last bit of torn wrapping paper that had blown beneath the patio table and straightened. Her house was almost back to normal . . . except for the brooding deputy attacking her gas grill with a steel brush.

Jack had grown strangely quiet since taking that phone call a couple hours before. He managed smiles for Riley, who’d loved every one of the too-many gifts Jack had given him. Gifts that were craft sets or science projects or models. Things that were taught or built. Rachel took note of the fact that a man who worked with death and destruction was fostering a love of discovery and creation in her son. But Jack was unable to muster even a ghost of a smile for her. Instead, when their gazes met, he looked . . . ravaged.

She shoved the trash in the garbage bag beside her and yanked on the handles to seal it. Then she approached Jack, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his lean waist. Even though he’d seen her coming, he tensed when her arms encircled him. She was grateful her mother-in-law and Stella had taken Riley to Target to spend his gift cards. It gave her the chance to get things straightened out with Jack.

She slid her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and caressed his washboard abs. “Stella tells me I need to keep you around and exploit your mad grilling skills.”

He set one hand over hers, stilling her movements. “Flipping burgers isn’t enough to fix my faults.”

“Oh my God, you have faults? What a relief! I was beginning to think you were perfect.”

Jack set the brush down and turned carefully to face her. “Rachel.”

She pushed up his sunglasses to reveal his eyes. They were completely shuttered. “What was the phone call about?”

“Nothing you should have to worry over.”

“Bullshit. Whatever was said to you has you pulling back. Since I’m the one you’re pulling back from, I deserve to know why.”

Exhaling harshly, he pulled off his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his T-shirt. “One of the guys on the team had a scare today.”

Rachel listened to his voice as he told her what happened. It was tight and clipped, his jaw taut. Someone he cared about—one of the very few—was hurting now and that was hurting Jack.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Her fingers stroked soothingly across his nape. “The good, the bad, and the ugly. It helps to get it out.”

“I don’t want you involved in stuff like this.”

“I’m already involved.”