Chapter 11

Iwasn't scheduled on a job till mid-afternoon, so I hung around the house until Jasmine woke up. Usually she walked to work from her apartment, but we lived farther away so I volunteered to drive her in to the office. I had finished my workout and breakfast, and I was checking my emails when she wandered into the kitchen, fresh from her shower. Her hair was wet and twisted on top of her head in a messy looking knot. She looked at me and shook her head.

"How are you so bright-eyed this morning?" she asked.

"Easy, I went to bed alone. Got tons of sleep. Unlike some people."

"If you'd been in on it I'd understand the shit-eating grin, but I'm confused. Shouldn't you be jealous or giving me crap about this?" She looked genuinely off balance.

"Why?" I asked. "I'm a grown man, Jas. I'm not jealous of my own brothers, and I'd never give you crap about something like this. You've known me a couple years now. Have I been judgmental about anything other than the tofu nonsense?"

"No, you're all pretty accepting. It's one of the things I love about you. I want to be up front with everybody. I've never done anything like this before in my life."

"Hey, as long as you are comfortable with it, that's all that matters."

She hugged me and went to the refrigerator. "I really should've grabbed my cereal or something yesterday. I was in a big hurry and didn't think to bring anything to eat."

"I made you a smoothie when I mixed mine up. It's in the fridge. Blueberries, chia seeds, lots of good stuff."

"You guys don't have to feed me."

"Please," I said. "You don't have to bring your own groceries or mop the floors and sing to the mice or whatever Cinderella did."

She rewarded me with a smile for my lame attempt at humor. It bothered me to see her worried and upset. I got the smoothie out of the fridge and offered it to her.

"Thank you. Did you draw the short straw and have to drive me in today?"

"I wanted to. I don't work ‘til three. Which you know because you make the schedule," I grinned. She smiled back and drank her smoothie.

"That's not bad. I'm going to get dressed really quick and we can go. Thanks for waiting on me."

"You don't have to hurry," I called after her.

"You may not work till three, but I have to be there in like forty-five minutes."

"Relax, I'll talk to the boss, see if he'll cut you some slack."

"Very funny," she said.

In twenty minutes she was ready. She rode shotgun in my hybrid and rolled her eyes theatrically when I called her my co-pilot.

"I'm the only one that gets to make flyboy jokes around here," she teased. "Unless you want to put on full-dress whites and sing Take My Breath Away, that is."

"I should never have let you watch that movie."

"Excuse me? How many times did we have to watch Top Gun: Maverick? That was not my idea after the first time."

"I went to the theater expecting to heckle it and hate it. It made me love going to the movies again."

"If you talk about the part where he saved Rooster again and start crying, I will video you and post it to the website."

"You're a savage. No wonder you fit right in," I said.

We were the only ones in the office after Ballard came in to grab a taser off the charger. Most of us don't carry anything of the sort, but we have a few for those who want them. We all keep our training up to date on safe usage, and I made sure she signed it out and time stamped it on the tablet.

"Channeling Jake there?" Jasmine said.

"I can be meticulous. I'm an excellent pilot."

"I've flown with you three times and didn't die once," she quipped.

She gave a laugh and sat at her computer. We worked in companionable silence for an hour or so as she fielded a couple of phone calls. I followed up on one of them, an inquiry about security for a children's event in the spring.

"Do I need to schedule a booking on that one?" she asked when I was off the phone.

"Yes, it's a small outdoor carnival for the pediatric foundation. We'll have to take on a few gig workers. I want fifteen security personnel on site. They're doing four rides, three carny games, face painting, a magician and someone doing balloon animals. That's ten activity hubs plus the snack carts and photo spot. It's a contained space and they'll have the hospital ladies' auxiliary helping so that will take care of kids wandering off from their parents, that kind of thing."

"Right, I've got that down. It sounds like a fun time. Not like the black-tie stuff you guys get stuck at."

"It will be. These are more fun to watch for one thing. Although there's more crying and puking at a kids' carnival than you'd find at a gala."

"Nah, I just think the fancy grownups do their crying and puking in the bathroom instead of out in the open," she said with a small sigh.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'm good," she said brightly.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm right here," I told her.

I went back in my office to give her space. In a moment she was at my door.

"I want to talk about it. And since you were here to see me just break down the other day, I think I can't make your opinion of me any worse. You know I'm a mess."

"Nothing like it. You've been through a lot and you have to process it. But there's nothing to be ashamed about."

"Have you been to therapy?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Really? You sound like it, but it's hard to imagine the invincible Burns boys needing someone to talk to."

"We were all in the service, Jas. After I left the Navy, it wasn't easy shifting back to civilian life. I started flying private, it was a different world completely. The destinations, everything lavish, the food and alcohol and women and drugs. I went down that road for a couple months, then Jake woke me up from a hangover and told me we were going to talk to a doctor, or he was going to beat the hell out of me and drag me there. They said I was dissociating and had to develop better coping skills. Embarrassed the hell out of me at the time, but what they said was solid. I was used to impressing people—graduated early, did an aviation engineering degree in three years, then I fast-tracked to being a pilot in the Navy. Pretty soon, I got elite assignments flying the top brass and VIPS, got to tool around Europe. It was an adjustment," I told her.

"I did some online therapy," she said. "I was kind of afraid to give too much detail in case they had to report it to cops or something and it helped Chris find me. Anyway, that's not what I came to talk about."

"Okay. I'm listening," I said, folding my hands and watching her expression.

"When you talked about the carnival, it sounded really cute. It's not that I want to go. It's that it's the first time I let myself think about how nice it would have been, you know, to be a mom. I was lonely growing up, like I said, but I always thought I'd have kids. Chris, well, he wanted to have a baby, I think to tie me to him and also to have something to threaten or hurt to keep me in line. There was no way in hell I was going to get pregnant. He had stealthed me when we were using condoms, but I was on the pill, too. He found the pills one time, got so mad at me and flushed them. I went on the birth control shot in secret. It wasn't the kind of home I'd want for a baby. I couldn't even keep myself safe with him. Trying to raise a child with him would be another level of nightmare. So I shut down the part of me that wanted to be a mother, and I told myself I didn't deserve it anyway because I'd cut off my own mom and wouldn't talk to her because she didn't welcome Chris into our lives. But when you said that about the face painting, that was it, that idea of kneeling down by a little kid and asking what she wanted and her saying she wanted to be a fairy, so they paint sparkles and purple swirls on her face and she's so excited and wants to see how it looks—I could see it all so clear. It was like a band-aid ripping off, it hurt but it uncovered what it had been hiding. The longing for a baby." She sighed.

"I think that's a good thing. For one, you'll be an amazing mom. You're fun and brave and loving," I said. "Our mom used to build forts with us in the living room. Extravagant ones using all the chairs and couch cushions and quilts off the bed. These things had multiple rooms and everything. When I was about five she and I built a pretend plane out of the picnic table and some rowboat paddles. I wore a pan on my head like a helmet and some swim goggles." I chuckled. "She encouraged me to be imaginative and take risks, and when I got hurt, she'd patch me up, give me a hug and let me try again. She didn't try to overprotect me—Jake did that plenty. But I grew up knowing it was safe for me to try and fail and keep going. That was her biggest gift to me."

Jasmine hugged me. "She sounds incredible. I wish I could meet her."

"So, do I. She'd tell you to keep moving forward. Don't let what he did decide your future."

"I'll try," she said. She nestled into me. It felt so good, the way it had when I came to the office yesterday and held her when she was afraid. The perfect fit of her against my chest. I started counting backward from one million in my head to try to keep my reactions under tight control. The soft curves of her pressed against me threatened to rip my will power to confetti in an instant if I let myself think about it. Even with my stubborn focus on counting, my cock stirred to life. I kept my eyes open and fixed on the light switch on the wall opposite. If I let my eyes drift shut and took a long breath I'd hopefully calm down.

"Don't give up on the life you wanted because a bad man tried to wreck you."

"Thanks. And thanks for listening," she said, pulling back from the hug.

Jasmine's smile was shy, her face flushed. Her blue eyes seared through me. Heat washed over me, made me breathless.

I lost count in spite of my best efforts.

My hands framed her face. I bent close and kissed her. It shook me to my bones, the force of that kiss. It wasn't a blaze of lightning or fireworks as I'd been led to believe by novels and films all my life. It was a sudden stillness and a shift, an opening, like a lever was pulled and my life swiveled around into something entirely different. It would never be the same and neither would I. Not after kissing Jasmine.

"Eli," she said against my lips before I parted hers to taste her fully. She wrapped her arms around my back and held me close, tilted her head to let me taste and tease her at a more satisfactory angle. I groaned in spite of myself and gathered her up in my arms, lifted her off her feet. I wanted to claim her, but more than that, I wanted to pull her into me, protect her, let her feel what I couldn't put into words. That I'd been in love with her longer than I cared to admit. That it damn near killed me not to make love to her yesterday—had that been only yesterday? It seemed like it was last month or last year. Everything had telescoped since then.

I made myself lift my head and set her back on her feet. I took a step back, then another. As much as I wanted to consume her, wipe out every fear and bad memory with my touch, she had to make this decision, not me. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, paced over to the other side of my desk and braced my hands on it, head down as I drew in a ragged breath. I took a drink of water. Then I composed myself enough to face her without raw arousal in my face.

"Would you like a drink?" I asked, acting civilized when I felt like roaring and ripping off our clothes.

She shook her head, hair tumbling out of her topknot from my roaming hands. Her clothes were disheveled—also my handiwork, and her lips bright pink and swollen. She looked delectable and it wasn't easy to keep myself where I stood with the desk between us.

"I don't want water, Eli," she said. "I want you to lock the door."

A heart-pounding rush rolled through me as I followed her directions without ever taking my eyes off her. She held my gaze with eyes full of affection and desire, so lovely that even her smile seemed to fill something aching inside me.

"I locked the door," I said.

"Will you come sit here with me?" she said, "Like we did the other day? When you were playing with my hair, and then you held me."

"You've got some specific stage direction here," said wryly.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it I was emotional and scared and it wasn't a good time to make a big change like that, but I want what I want. Timing has never been my strong suit. Let's just see what happens."

"Not to ruin the surprise but I can tell you what happens. Unless you plan to tie me down, which I'm also not against if it's what you're into," I said with a grin.

I couldn't keep from grinning. Because there was a sweetness in this moment where we hung on the precipice, anticipation that was its own delicious agony.

There was so much to say, but I, who prided myself on my IQ, my education, my vocabulary, was at a loss for words. I sat on the couch in my office beside her. She was tucked in the corner with her shoes off, her feet curled under her as she had been the day before. I leaned back, arms along the back of the cushions. I tipped my head back and shut my eyes, listening, breathing in the watermelon shampoo and cinnamon gum smell of her. Waiting, not relaxed but coiled and ready as any predator in the brush, I let her come to me.

First the soft rustle of fabric as she changed position, next the physical dip of the cushion beneath me shifting with her movement. Then some primal sense detected her approach, maybe her heat signature disturbing the air or the lifting of the hairs on my arms. I flexed my hand, and I could already feel her smooth skin beneath my palm, her hair twisted in my fingers, could see her face transformed in ecstasy as though it were stamped on the dark behind my eyelids. Every sense was awake to her, and I who had wanted to consume her was instead consumed, as Jasmine herself blocked out everything else in my awareness.

If she had been any other woman, I would have expected to open my eyes and find her straddling my lap, perhaps with her shirt removed already, a naughty smile on her face that told me she was ready for a ride. But this was Jasmine. My old friend. The person who scheduled my days and reminded me when I had an eye appointment, who had placed her warm hand on my back last May when I heard that a friend from the Navy died in a car accident. She was the one who roasted me mercilessly and still made it clear she respected me, who trusted me to be with her and hear her truth when she was scared about Chris's reappearance.

This was Jasmine. I felt the warmth of her settle against my leg and the pressure of her cheek on my thigh as she lay down with her head in my lap. My body went rigid at the contact, at the trust and pure consent in that pose. I opened my eyes and my body instinctively curved toward her. I unclipped her topknot and let it unwind in my palm, then soothed her scalp with my fingertips. I savored the silken strands between my fingers as I combed them through her hair. She hummed a little, enjoying it, and that sound alone made me harden even more. I wondered how long I'd last at this, with her head in my lap and my cock jerking in anticipation.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at me, blinking fast, her pulse visible at her throat. I traced her forehead, her brows, the line of her nose and across her cheekbones with my fingertip. Tenderly I ran my fingertips over her lips. I felt her tremble under my gaze, my touch, saw the flutter of her lashes in response, the way she swallowed hard. I continued to follow the line of her features, her chin and jawline, the shell of her ear, the curve of her neck. My fingertips were on her collarbone when she drew a shaky breath and reached for me. I knew it was too much for her, and I loved seeing how long she could hold out before she broke and had to stop me.

She sat up and pressed her lips to the corner of my mouth. I made a throttled sound, to my surprise because a soft kiss just west of the mark shouldn't have triggered that deep a reaction. I turned toward her and our lips locked, clinging together before I started to kiss her in earnest. She rose up on her knees to kiss me back. I wrapped an arm around her and bore her down onto the cushions. She smiled at me. I looked down at her beautiful face. "Have you ever thought about this? About us?" I asked her. She nodded.

"I've worn out batteries thinking about us," she admitted, eyes sparkling. "What am I doing when you think of me? If you think of me."

"There's no if with us, Jas," I whispered. "In my fantasies you're telling me you need me, you're urging me to go faster, to move my hand or my mouth just so. You're a woman who knows what you want," I say.

"I picture you being all business. You're in complete control with one thing on your mind and that ice-cold stare right in my eyes."

"That's where reality beats fantasy," I told her, savoring the rapt expression on her face. "Because foreplay is more than half the fun."

I kissed her upper lip one time, softly, and levered off her. She gave a squeak of dismay that was a shot of confidence to my ego. I sat back on my knees and unzipped her company fleece. "Mmmm," I said, revealing not the expected t-shirt but a clingy white tank that hugged all her curves and showed the sharp peaks of her nipples through the thin fabric. I parted the front of her jacket and set my hands to her torso, one palm warm on the curve of her belly while my right hand curved around her rib cage, thumb just brushing the swell below her breast.

Her ragged breath told me she liked it, and her avid stare never left my face. I stroked the underside of her breast with sweeps of my thumb and, her lips parted, the tip of her tongue peeking out to wet her full lower lip. The sight of her pink tongue moistening her parted lips made my already hard cock stiffen and clench in response.

I slid my hand up her stomach to her chest and skimmed over the other breast to rest my fingertips on her lips. I shut my eyes for an instant and then rasped out, "I can't stand it when you lick your lips. You'll unman me."

Shocked, she blinked, then those lips curved into a slow smile before she swept her tongue against my fingertips. My body seemed to lock up at that warm, wet touch. A barely-anything lick that sent a spike of pleasure rocketing through my body as surely as if she had licked my dick that way. I mastered myself and looked down at her.

"Naughty girl. I should show you what to do with that tongue," I said, my voice low. I felt her squirm, arching her breast into my hand eagerly. "You like that?" I purred. I let go of her to peel down her tank top, exposing her pale, full breast to my hungry eyes.

I went back to the light touches she liked, trailing my fingers down the slope of her breast and tracing a circle around her pebbled nipple as she strained toward me, giving a whimper. She wanted relief, wanted me to grab and pinch and suck. But I knew how to make it last, how to drive her higher and higher until she couldn't take any more. Then I'd teach her a thing or two about pure, hedonistic ecstasy. Another slow, deliberate circle around her nipple as she squirmed and pressed, tried to urge me on.

Jasmine reached for my face, her hand on my jaw, thumb sweeping over my cheekbone. With effort, she raised herself to kiss me. I unbuttoned my own shirt until it hung open down the front and I lifted her onto my knees so her bare breast was flush against my chest, hard cut muscle for her to push and rub against. Her kiss grew sloppier. I took over. I dragged the tip of my tongue along her upper lip, flicked the roof of her mouth, gave her soft, sweet kisses that drove her mad. Kissing her was incredible. Teasing her like this was on another level.

I kept kissing her mouth, let her hands roam my shoulders and back as she reached to get her hands on my bare skin. She broke the kiss for a moment to look at my chest, to pull away, ogle me, and just put her mouth on my abs, kissing and licking. It felt too good.

My cock twitched eagerly. I reached down and took her hand in mine and laced our fingers together. Let her feel the intimacy of my fingers between hers, the tender flesh there yielding to me. I picked up her hand and kissed it. She looked at me then, a mix of besotted and frustrated that made me want to laugh.

I wanted her grinning, satisfied, walking around sure of her own strength and potential. Anything I could do to make that a reality, I was fully ready to get down on my knees and do. Until then, I kissed her hand and felt her body go loose and pliant. I bent her head back over my arm and took her mouth with as much passion as I'd ever made love to anyone else. Tingles raced down my chest as we kissed, open-mouthed and sensuous, urgent in the way we tore at each other's clothes.

Her left breast, the one exposed above her tank top, bounced as we undressed each other. I couldn't resist any longer. I dipped my head and devoured it, took as much of her breast in my mouth as possible, licking and sucking. My palm on her back pushed her closer, arched her deeper into my mouth. Insatiable, I nipped, kissed, and bit at her sensitive flesh as she writhed and twisted in my arms.

Jasmine flung her arms and legs both around me and kissing my neck. I clutched her to me, giving myself up to pure sensation. I groaned as I shrugged my sleeves off. She made short work of opening my jeans and reaching in, her hand closing around my aching shaft and pulling it free. With one tentative stroke, she had me standing at attention, precum dripping between her fingers.

She met my eyes as she worked her hand up and down my length, squeezing, stroking, rubbing the hot liquid that leaked from the head all around. I shifted and bucked at her touch, incapable of remaining still under the onslaught of sensation.

We were so close, the dark head of my cock slick and throbbing perhaps an inch from her but separated by her panties. I was seeing spots, so far gone I couldn't think how to get her panties off of her without having to stand up. She was wiser than I because she kissed the corner of my mouth again and whispered, "Rip them off."

My body jolted at her words, red heat coursing through my blood and roaring in my ears. The eroticism of tearing off her clothes nearly broke me. My fingers dug into the narrow slip of lace, jerked and they came away in scraps in my hand. She grinned at me, leaned in and bit my neck.

I palmed the back of her head and kissed her, bearing her down onto her back. We were skin on skin, bare and hot, and I was determined to make sure she was ready for me. I had promised her foreplay and she'd get it if it killed me. My eyes boring into hers, I trailed one finger from her bottom lip over her chin, down her neck and drew a line from her collarbone between her heaving breasts, over her navel, and down to the spot where a nest of dark curls began between her thighs.

Those curls enticed me, I felt the mist of dampness against my stomach. Never breaking eye contact, I lifted my left hand and licked it before sliding it between her legs. She moaned and bucked into my hand involuntarily. I fingered her, stroked her, petted her. Then I tucked two fingers into her and curled them toward me like a hook. Her hips rose off the couch like she was levitating and she ground into me, screaming once as the pleasure took her. I felt her inner muscles bear down and her thighs clamped shut around my wrist, trying to endure the pleasure that drove her to desperation.

Shaking, she came down from it, her body slowly uncoiling. I nuzzled her breast, kissed it, kept fingering her until I had her legs jerking and her fingers scrabbling for purchase on my back, in my hair. Then, when she was near in a frenzy, I pulled my fingers out of her. I pushed up enough to notch my cock right where I wanted it and shoved my hips forward and up, driving into her and striking the same place inside her that made her scream, thrusting against it again.

Her breath shuddered against my lips as she came apart beneath me. I didn't last long after that, one more thrust and I was gone, shooting out like I was sixteen again. In the aftermath, sweaty and spent, I rolled over, pulled her on top of me. She lay on my chest, my arms closed around her protectively. I kissed her tumbled hair and lay there, unable to move.

At some point she dragged the throw blanket down over us and nestled into my chest fully. Somewhere far away the phone rang, and we ignored it. We had voicemail for a reason after all. I didn't care if it were hours or days we lay there wrapped up in each other. It had been an experience unlike anything else in my life.