12. Jamison

Asecond pair of footsteps pounded the stairs behind her, pushing Jamison to run faster.

"Damn it, will you stop?"

"Stay away from me." She swung a sharp left at the landing and sailed into her room. "Or so help me."

Liam caught the door before it closed, pushing his way inside her bedroom. "What's your problem?"

"You quit!"

He slammed the door and secured the lock. "So?"

"What do you mean, so?" Flapping her hands at him in frustration, the robe's long sleeves unfurled. "The Bureau is your whole world."

A humorless laugh snapped out of his mouth. "The Bureau cost me my whole world, which is an entirely different thing."

That shut her up. Jamison's mouth opened and closed, waiting for her brain to fuel it with a response, but the damn thing gave her zilch to work with.

"Sit down," he ordered, and when she didn't move, he forced her to sit at the end of the bed. "My job isn't your concern anymore."

"Excuse me!" She popped up to stand, almost taking out his nose with her forehead. "Since when?"

"Since you threw away the last five years over a single argument."

"It wasn't like that."

"Yes, it was."

"How long ago did you quit?"

"Again, not your business."

"How long?" She wanted to stomp her foot like a child. Hell, she wanted to stomp his foot and make it hurt. "I need to know."

"Two months."

Her stomach dropped. "What have you been doing for the last two months?"

"I didn't leave without a job lined up."

His brilliance would allow him to do whatever he wanted in almost any field, but that wasn't what concerned her. "What kind of job?"

"One that allows me freedom." He gave her a fraction of space. "Listen, we're both tired and emotional. We can talk about this later. I want to hear what Klausen has learned."

Crossing her arms, she didn't follow when he went for the door. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Back straight, eyes forward, she met his gaze with as much contempt as she could manage. Since their relationship began, they had never spent more than a week or two away from each other, but after this months-long separation, it almost felt like she was arguing with an entirely different man.

And it didn't help that the jackass looked good.

Clearer headed than before, she could see he hadn't exactly lost weight, but had been working on accentuating the muscled tone he'd always maintained with little effort. She knew his body as well as her own, but bet if she removed his clothes, there would be an entirely new landscape to explore.

"Why do you want to know what Klausen has to say?" Giving herself an internal shake, she ordered her hormones to get it together. "If you say your new job is not my business, then what happens to me, or my family, is none of yours."

He opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze snagged on her chest, and a smirk slowly spread. A quick glance down told her the robe was gaping open, and she gripped the lapels to yank it closed.

"Not my business, eh?" Liam advanced, jerking his chin at the robe. "I didn't get a good look, but are you wearing what I think you're wearing under there?"

It was the smirk that had her retreating. She knew it all too well. The predator in him was coming out to play, and her body reacted as it always did. Sizzling lust shot through her, and at once, she was in motion. The giant fluffy robe might have held up against a kidnapper, but it didn't stand a chance against Liam Cohen.

"Leave me alone." She scrambled over the bed, but he was across the room, latching onto her ankle before she could get away. "I'll scream!"

"Go right ahead." With a solid tug, he dragged her to him. "Do you really think anyone downstairs will come up here?"

No, they would leave her to her fate.

She continued to struggle, and he wrangled her to the end of the bed to lay his body on top of hers. Thoroughly trapped, she relented, and glared at him grinning from above. "You happy?"

"Immensely."

Brown strands of hair hung past his brow from their tussle, and her fingers itched to knock it away. Old habits and all that. Speaking of old habits, her legs obviously hadn't received the message that they were no longer together and spread as if they had a mind of their own.

"Did you really head butt him?" His body clearly hadn't received the memo on their breakup either as he wedged himself between her open thighs. "That's ballsy, Jamison. Even for you."

"I was scared."

"It'll never happen again." Lifting a hand, he traced her jawline with his fingertips. "I swear."

Lower and lower, his fingers trailed from her neck to her chest until reaching the knotted belt of the robe. Death would be a better fate than allowing him to see what was underneath, but she didn't stop him when he shifted to the side to expose her shame.

Smoothing back the material, his ravenous gaze left her face to devour the work of art created just for him. He had provided her with the specifications of what he wanted down to the color. A shade of emerald to match her eyes with a corseted top that ended in a short silk skirt.

"I don't know why I put it on."

Splaying a hand over the lace on her stomach, he didn't look at her, too preoccupied with examining every detail. "Yes, you do," he whispered. "And so do I."

Because she had lost it. Coming upstairs to change, she had experienced a momentary lapse in judgment and thrown herself a solitary pity party with more wine. The bright idea of trying on her honeymoon trousseau came somewhere around the third bottle.

"No bow I see."

Out of reflex, her legs spread further at the rough timbre in his voice, and their bodies began the old dance neither could deny. Bringing his hips flush with hers, the hard length of him nestled against her tender flesh.

"It kept falling off," she rasped, fighting the urge to move. These past six months had been endlessly dry. The idea of touching another man turned her stomach, and then there were the times she'd tried to handle things herself. A disaster, she failed to finish. Every. Single. Time. "I left it on the chair."

"There's a hidden latch to secure it to the back." Dropping his head, Liam ran his lips along the column of her neck. "It functions as a handle of sorts."

"A handle?"

He nuzzled her ear, and she refused to react, digging her nails into his shoulders as the hair from his beard tickled her mercilessly. Her ear was the most sensitive spot on her body, and he was exploiting it as best he could. "The bow works to keep you balanced if I want to take you hard from behind." His breath skated over her skin. "Didn't you ever wonder why the tails looked like pieces of corded rope?"

"I didn't."

Lifting on his arms, he stared down at her. "Well, now you know, and I bet you're imagining what it would've been like."

"No, I'm not."

A lie.

Of course, she was imagining it. This man had the skill to make her come fast or slow, depending on his mood, and she would give up everything she possessed just to have that undivided attention again. Never one to shy away from trying new things, she always became the least dominant one in their sex life. Anything he wanted, she did. Any part of her he demanded, she gave. No question. No arguments. Liam taught her how to accept being ruled over in the bedroom, and she loved every minute of it.

He rolled his hips, the friction forcing a needy whimper out of her. "I could sit you on my face right now, and you'd grab that headboard and ride without a second thought."

"Wrong." Liar, liar pants on fire, her brain sang. "Very wrong."

A vibrating ring tickled her thigh, and Liam extracted his phone from his pocket. "Do not leave your phone off the charger again, and tell Mom she needs to keep hers by the bed," he said before switching the call to speaker. "And I'm guessing you've heard what's happened?"

There were shouts—lots of shouts—with both Will and Bernie vying to have their questions heard. The main one being if everyone was okay.

"Simone is at the hospital," Liam replied over his parents' frantic yelling. "She's pretty beat up, and so is Annabeth."

"Jamison?" Bernie must have wrestled the phone from Will as her voice grew louder. "Is Jamison alright?"

She loved Will and Bernie, and they loved her. Since the breakup, the three of them continued to chat at least twice a week. It hurt that they never mentioned Liam quitting the Bureau, but Jamison supposed they had to remain at least a little loyal to their son.

Liam lowered his head, playfully rubbing his nose against hers. "Well, she called me ugly, so I'm thinking she has a head wound that's messing with her eyesight."

He was teasing his mother, trying to keep her calm.

Bernie was not amused. "Where is she?"

"At the moment?" The planes of Liam's face softened as he chuckled. "Lying underneath me with her legs spread."

All talk halted, and Will cleared his throat. "Um, I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure those laying on top of the other person privileges got revoked when you moved out."

Jamison poked him in his ribs, and Liam grunted. "I don't know. She doesn't seem to mind."

"She does." Grabbing his wrist, she brought the phone closer. "And I'm okay, but we apparently had a terrorist over last night."