Blood in the Water (Dixie Mafia Series Book 2) Page 17

  And she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Before she could protest, Byron towed her into his arms and placed her on his lap, her back to his front, bracketing her body with his own.

  “There, that’s much better.”

  His skin was slick and supple beneath her fingertips as she tried to scramble away, but he held her with one arm wrapped around her torso.

  “Easy, Jane, I’ve got you. Nothin’s gonna happen you don’t like.”

  That was the problem. Jane liked all of this a bit too much.

  “But—“

  “Shh, Legal Eagle.”

  Jane relaxed the tiniest bit, enjoying the feel of his big strong arms around her, the sturdy grip he had on her body. As always, his embrace soothed her. They fit together neatly like two puzzle pieces.

  Byron leaned back, using his own body as her chair. He gave her a moment or two to adjust to the new position, and then a sponge appeared in his hand.

  “Here, let me wash you.”

  Before she could protest, he began, and she relaxed even more under his gentle attentions. Byron dragged the sponge gently along her limbs, leaving a soapy trail in its wake. No one had ever given her a bath before. It was somewhere between sexual and nurturing. The languor washed over her yet again—her eyes closed, and she leaned back even more, savoring his touch.

  And then the mood shifted.

  Somehow, the sponge slipped from his hands. Instead, Byron ran his fingers all over her body, touching, squeezing. Byron cupped her breasts, plucked at her nipples, rolling them between his coaxing fingertips.

  Then she felt his erection, probing against her backside. It rested against her, large and hard and pulsing, inexplicably more blistering hot than the water surrounding them.

  Byron ground his dick into her—a hot, thick slide. Then she was moving against him, arching her back, quivering.

  He pressed a hand between her legs, slipping up her thighs and sliding against her swollen sex. Jane gasped as she rolled her hips, seeking more contact. Byron obliged her, stroking her skillfully—applying a wonderful pressure, working her higher and higher. All the while, Byron glided his cock against her. Water splashed over the side of the tub, extinguishing some of the candles.

  Jane moaned, on the threshold of an explosive climax. She could feel it bubbling up inside her—so close, ready to shatter. Other lovers had stroked her, made her orgasm, but they didn’t have Byron’s skill. His hand was even better than Jane’s own fingers.

  Jane shut her eyes.

  “Oh, yes, darlin’. I want you to come for me,” he rasped into her ear. Then Byron sucked and bit the skin on the back of her neck.

  Jane trembled.

  His fingers were more aggressive, teasing, stroking her swollen flesh, demanding a response. And she swayed against him, the heel of his hand abrading her clit. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she knocked his hand from between her legs and then turned in his arms, straddling his leg.

  She pressed her forehead to his, their noses touching, mouths meeting. And then she rode his thigh, looking deep into his eyes. Byron gripped her waist, holding her in place as she wriggled.

  His cock was thick and hard, resting against his abdomen, throbbing and scorching her skin. He shifted in the tub so he could suck a nipple into his mouth, edging it with his teeth and then sucking so hard it made her whimper. Jane threw her head back, losing herself in the moment, the momentum.

  “Come for me.” And then he locked eyes with her.

  She couldn’t hold back anymore. With one long slippery slide, the orgasm smashed through her body.

  With an answering shout, Byron jerked against her stomach, sluicing them both with his come.

  A long time passed as they both gasped for breath and came back to their senses.

  “That was….” Jane couldn’t form the words.

  “Mind-blowin’? Worth the wait?” Byron hugged her tight.

  “Yes.” God help me, the answer is yes.

  He laughed delightedly. “Well, I kept my promise. Nothin’ was inserted.”

  Jane swatted his arm.

  After polishing off the cheese fondue in a post-coital fever, they reclined in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets, lying on pillows. Byron had brought his copy of Gone with the Wind with them, and they’d watched the last of it together as they ate.

  Somehow, she was still naked and so was he. Yet, Jane didn’t have the urge to pull away.

  What does all of this mean?

  Maybe it was the extreme situation they were in. Drama had forged some sort of unnatural closeness. The pressure was getting to her and she needed a protector. Byron made her feel safe and secure because he had an alpha male protector sort of presence.

  Or maybe it was his hidden side, the pain boiling beneath the surface that she found so intriguing.

  Regardless, she’d slept with one client, was actively working against another, and yet she felt wonderful. Her morals were crumbling, but she didn’t miss them.

  Jane took a big sip of champagne. This is total chaos.

  “What are you thinkin’, Legal Eagle?”

  “Still trying to wrap my head around the situation. I never thought you and I would have sex.”

  “Hate to break it to you, darlin’, but we didn’t.” Byron nudged her shoulder with his own. “Yet.”

  “Oh, yes, we did.” She pointed to the tub.

  “We got close but no, uh, cigar.”

  “Only if you define sex as penetration.”

  “In this case, I do. You in the mood for dessert?” Byron pointed to the chocolate fondue they hadn’t yet touched. Next to it was a platter of cubed pound cake, tiny pretzels, and bite-sized fruit.

  “I’m so full I’d burst.” With a groan, she placed a hand on her stomach.

  He kissed her shoulder and then licked it. “I’d like some more.” He raised a brow.

  “Then eat.”

  Byron chuckled. “No, darlin’, I mean I’d like to have more of you. This time, dipped in chocolate.”

  “You want to put chocolate sauce on me?”

  “Yes, how’s that sound?”

  “Messy. Unsanitary.” She grimaced. Even the thought of it made her uncomfortable.

  “Fine.” He peeled the blanket away from his lap. “You can lick it off me, then.” Byron folded his arms behind his head, showing off for her.

  Jane allowed herself to enjoy the show. His balls were shaved, and his penis was large and thick; veins stood out on either side of it, the length of it pulsing. The pinkish-red head was pearled with a drop of come.

  She bit her lower lip, and he groaned.

  “No, um, I don’t think so.” This is happening too fast. I need to think about what it means, get my bearings.

  “No pressure, darlin’.” He gave a self-satisfied chuckle. “I’m a man of my word—but you and me? We’re inevitable—sooner or later this is gonna happen.”

  Jane didn’t contradict him. She knew they’d make love, and it’d be soon.

  “But, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna finish myself off.” He grasped his cock, stroking it. His eyes were hooded, and Byron groaned with every caress. His abdominal muscles rippled as he worked his hips.

  Watching Byron rub himself was unexpectedly erotic. Her sex clenched as she imagined him plunging into her, slipping inside. Her body would welcome him, spread wide for his invasion.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jane was shocked to hear how low and hoarse her voice had gone.

  “You.” His eyes were twin blue flames. “I imagine you stormin’ in my office, all hot and bothered about somethin’. You slap my face, and I take you against the wall—quick, dirty, and, oh, so damn good.”

  Clearly, he’d fantasized about this before.

  It did something for Jane too. When they argued, sparks flew between them. She supposed it was inevitable they’d caught fire, blazed to life.

  Byron squeezed the head, stopping for a moment as though to catch his breath,
teasing himself. Then he worked furiously, pumping harder.

  “Damnation, I need to be inside you, filling you. Fuckin’ you.” Byron licked his lips, as though relishing the scenario. “You’re like velvet around me, plush and warm, surroundin’ my cock, holdin’ me tight. I’ve wanted you for months, and it’s gonna be so fuckin’ good when it finally happens.”

  Jane squirmed.

  Byron called her name, and with a pained grunt, he came.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The morning after was awkward.

  Jane had woken up next to Byron wrapped in his arms. They were both still naked, and he was hard again, throbbing against her butt. Jane was torn—part of her wanted to wake him with a kiss, start where they left off.

  A fling with the mobster would harm her reputation and her career. The partners didn’t mind keeping the criminal element out of jail, but bringing mobsters to the office Christmas party was a deal-breaker.

  Assuming she still wanted to work at the law firm.

  Speaking with Jessup yesterday had been difficult, but rewarding. It was the kind of case Jane had dreamed of taking on. Saving a man’s life meant something. For once, she experienced the passion her father had been speaking about.

  When this was over, assuming she survived, Jane would reevaluate her career.

  Mind made up, Jane gingerly disentangled herself from Byron and dashed to the bathroom.

  After Byron woke, they had breakfast together in the Love Nest’s eatery. Everything on the menu was heart-shaped—biscuits, waffles, pancakes. All around them, couples kissed and cooed to each other, exchanging kisses between mouthfuls as they fed one another.

  It was unhygienic and nauseating.

  Byron was subdued, drinking coffee and eating a sausage biscuit while she ate forkfuls of pancake. Jane wanted to talk with him about what happened but had no clue how to bring it up.

  “How’s the vacation, love birds?”

  Jane glanced up to see Skeeter standing by their table with a tape recorder.

  Oh, no.

  “I’m doin’ a story on Dearest Day. I’m callin’ it Love as Big as Texas.” He spread his hands wide as though imagining the headline. “Should be front page, above the fold.”

  “Yeah, right above the tractor ads,” Byron drawled.

  Skeeter pushed the spectacles up his nose. “Fine, be rude, as long as you give me the scoop. Tell me your love story and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Why don’t you interview one of those people?” Jane pointed to a woman licking whipped cream from her lover’s lip. If those two got any friendlier, they’d be having sex on the table.

  “I’m sensin’ tension here. Maybe a juicy break-up, like Brangelina or, even worse, Bennifer?” Skeeter took out a notepad and placed the recorder in the center of their table. “What’s your supercouple name? Jayron? Or is it Byrane?”

  “It’s ‘kiss my ass’ and you can quote me.” Byron snatched the recorder and dunked it in the remains of his coffee.

  “Hey! That thing cost me a hundred bucks.”

  “Boo-fuckin’-hoo.”

  “It’s alright, Skeeter, I’ll take care of it.”

  Jane spun around in her chair to see a handsome, broad-shouldered man with long blond hair striding toward them. He wore a biker vest, and if Jane wasn’t mistaken, it was the aforementioned Romeo, the one Byron had an earlier altercation with.

  Wow. This won’t end well.

  Before she knew it, he punched Byron in the nose and smashed a water glass into his face. The mobster decked the biker and then threw a chair at him.

  Pandemonium hit the restaurant—women screeching, men shouting. Byron pulled a gun, and they hustled out the door in droves.

  “Stop this!” Jane turned to Skeeter for help, but he was fussing over his water-logged equipment.

  “Don’t look at me, I hope Romeo gives him a whuppin’. Besides, it’s a good story—Dearest Day Fight don’t have quite the same cachet as the Valentine Massacre, but it’ll do.”

  The two men circled one another. Somehow, the biker had pulled another gun, so it was a stalemate.

  “And what if the couples tell the police?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it—the sheriff’s friendly to the cause. He’ll come up with some lame ass excuse, and the locals will shrug it off.”

  Jane figured that meant the club had paid the lawman off, so she’d have to take matters into her own hands.

  “For pity’s sake, put your egos away and handle this like rational adults—unless one of you idiots wants to wind up in the morgue.”

  “My date’s gotta point. Tell you what, you get this one for free.” Blood dripped down his face, and his chest sparkled with glass shards. “Since I broke your jaw last time.” Byron rubbed his chin.

  “Fine, let’s take this down a notch.” Both Romeo and Byron put the guns away.

  Jane blew out a long, deep breath. She felt a little woozy from relief.

  “Why are you here, stirrin’ up trouble?” Romeo asked.

  “What trouble? I’ve been downright neighborly, and people won’t stop pickin’ fights with me.”

  “Karma gets people every time.” Jane couldn’t resist an opening like that.

  Skeeter snorted and then covered his mouth. Byron frowned at her, and she turned away.

  “Why are you sniffin’ around the Valentine case, Beauregard?”

  Jane and Byron exchanged looks. Maybe they hadn’t been as discreet as they thought.

  “Don’t look so surprised—it’s a small town. Nothin’ stays a secret for long.” And then he pointed an accusing finger at Jane. “And while I’m on the subject, why the fuck were you defendin’ that piece of shit?”

  “Because he paid me to.” Wasn’t the answer obvious?

  Romeo gaped at her as if she’d said something shocking.

  “Why are you taking this so personally?”

  Byron stepped in front of her. “Look, we’re about done here anyhow. We’ll be leavin’ in a day or two and I don’t want any trouble in the meantime.”

  “I’d make it sooner if I were you.” With a snort, Romeo stalked out of the room.

  “And I’ll be sendin’ you a bill.” Skeeter squared his shoulders and strutted out, leaving the two of them alone in the deserted dining room.

  “Well, Romeo’s got his tail up about somethin’.” Byron cocked his head to the side. “But what?”

  “No clue.” In all the files she’d examined, the biker hadn’t been mentioned.

  Byron snapped his fingers. “Jessup said Oscar Valentine was datin’ somebody around the time of the murder.”

  “Somebody…like Juliet?” It explained her angry demeanor when they’d first met. Hallelujah—another lead! “All we need to do is talk to her, see what she knows.”

  Byron grinned. “See, didn’t I say it would all turn out okay?”

  “By sheer dumb luck.”

  “Maybe its karma,” he said pointedly.

  “You heard that, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jane was going to say something witty back when blood dripped from his nose. “You’re bleeding. Let me check on your wounds.”

  “It’s fine, just some glass. I’ll see to it when we get back to the hotel room.”

  “What if it gets infected? There are germs everywhere.” Jane imagined them crawling over his skin and into the wound. “We’ve got to get you cleaned up right away.”

  “Okay.” Byron tossed bills onto the table to pay for their food, and they headed down the hall to the hotel room. “Do you have any medical trainin’?”

  “No, but I always bring a first aid kit with me.”

  He laughed. “Of course, you do.”

  “What about you??” Jane pushed him into a chair and grabbed the kit from her luggage.

  “Can’t say I do. Under normal circumstances, Ten would patch me up.”

  “Maybe we should go to the emergency room instead.” Jane gloved up and then plucked the shat
tered glass off him with a pair of tweezers, before she tossed it into the trash can.

  “Hell no. If we did, the town would be crawlin’ with FBI agents in a matter of a few hours.”

  “Because you’re on a watch list?”

  “Yeah, and showin’ up bloody at a hospital would set off alarm bells. The feds would be askin’ all sorts of questions we don’t want to answer.”

  “Good point. You know, Romeo won’t like us talking to Juliet.”

  “Then we should get her alone, interrogate her cranky ass, and then we’ll beat feet out of town afterward. You can work with her in Dallas after that—get her deposition and such.”

  She was almost afraid to hope Juliet knew anything useful. It seemed too good to be true.

  Jane cleaned the cuts on his face with alcohol, then bandaged the wounds. It looked worse than it was—in a few days, he’d be healed.

  “Here, let’s take your shirt off.”

  A blood stain marred the crisp white cotton. Carefully, Jane unfastened the buttons.

  Even though they’d been naked with one another, it felt too intimate. Removing his clothing and seeing to his wounds was something a lover would do, a wife. A smattering of crisp blond hair covered the muscled expanse of his chest. And she had the sudden urge to run her hands all over him.

  This was inappropriate, especially considering his injuries.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Jane forced herself to remain cool and detached. She dipped a paper towel in water and wiped a wound more harshly than she’d intended.

  He hissed in response.

  “Sorry.”

  Jane wetted another paper towel and squirted some soap on it to cleanse the wound. She didn’t see any broken glass embedded in it.

  Neither one of them spoke. Byron’s eyes were closed. More than anything, Jane wanted to press her mouth to his, kiss him again. Maybe climb back in the tub with him.

  When he opened his eyes, the black centers nearly swallowed the divine blue. Jane stepped back, but he caught her around the waist and yanked her closer. His mouth floated over hers. And then their lips met once more—fireworks, as always.