CLEAN to the BONE Read online

  “Damn it, Charlie. You look good enough to eat. In fact . . .” He glanced around.

  Night was pressing against the walls of glass surrounding them. Lush foliage hid the pool from all but the most persistent passersby. The dim lighting heightened the feeling of isolation even though conversation murmured softly all around them. He pulled her closer, ducking under her briefly so that her legs fell now over his shoulders.

  Her eyes widened. A blush the night wouldn’t hide flared over her cheeks. He didn’t . . . surely he couldn’t mean to . . .

  His eyes were storm dark as he pressed a light, sucking kiss to the side of her knee. She gasped at the instant onslaught of sensation. Her nails scraped over the cool mosaic tile of the pool deck as she tried to pull back. This was insane. “No, Jake. You can’t—”

  His grip on her tightened, the tone of his voice even more captivating. Warm and rich, it pulled at her. His accent thickened as he leaned closer, rubbing his rough cheek against her inner thigh. She bit back a whimper. “But I’m so curious. You smell like peaches, did you know that? Hell, you even feel like peaches.”

  His fingers danced over her skin, dipping under that useless ruffle, raising goose bumps as he circled her bellybutton.

  “All firm and soft and silky. I just want a nibble, a little taste to ease this craving of mine. What do you say?”

  His mouth moved up her leg, slow, hot and hypnotizing. He stole her will to move with every inch, melted her ability to sit upright. She sank down into the pile of towels behind her, trembling as Jake worked his way higher.

  Her head fell back when his breath warmed her through the thin material of her suit. She stared at the green fronds above her, unable to believe she was letting him, that he was . . .

  He tugged her swimsuit aside. There was a sharp hiss, followed by a groan she felt all the way to her toes, which were curled over his broad, muscular back. The throbbing timbre of his voice rumbled through the air and into her skin.

  “You’re wet for me already, Charlie? Talk about not fucking playing fair.”

  His lips brushed her naked sex. She made a soft keening sound as her stomach tightened. His tongue flicked, warm and insistent, teasing her apart for him. He worked her over inch by inch, taking his time until she was utterly pliable. This was madness, she knew that. But such a delicious madness.

  Jake used his fingers to hold her open, his mouth warm, exploring and greedy. He sucked and licked at her like a man determined to savor some rare and delectable morsel set in front of him. Hot and wild, desire tingled along her spine to settle pulsing in her core.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as his name escaped her lips.

  She bit the heel of her palm to stop the cries, her back arching and twisting as the unbearable pleasure built. Jake groaned as she writhed in his hands. He used the flat of his tongue to stroke her clit and then the tip to torment her into begging softly, her fevered whispers escaping around her fingers as she tried desperately not to scream.

  But she couldn’t help bucking hard when he drove his tongue inside her. She quivered as his hands cupped her ass, pressing as deep as he could. She almost lost her mind as he thrust in and out. Her body tightened around him and she felt, more than heard, his low curse. With a growl he pulled back; she couldn’t see, could barely breathe, but she could hear his ragged voice.

  “You need more, don’t you, darl? Just a little more of me to send you over? Come on, Charlie.” His hand felt unsteady against her, as if he were shaking, too, which was crazy, but then his finger worked inside of her. She forgot everything, lost in the sensation of Jake parting her, the slow penetration stealing the air from her lungs. Her legs tightened on his slick, warm shoulders and her muscles locked on him. He moved his finger in and out, his breath a teasing coolness over her drenched skin as he added a second finger.

  She whimpered low in her throat, a primitive, desperate sound.

  “That’s it, baby, lose it for me. Just let go.” His voice was harder now, urgent as his fingers pumped inside of her. His soft, firm lips circled her clit once again, and that, with the slow flick of his tongue, did her in. Charlie’s hips snapped up, out of control as the orgasm broke over her at last.

  In slapping, violent waves, the pleasure took over, a delicious heat that surged and then rolled away, trickle by trickle, leaving her shaking and limp and sated. Jake leaned his head against her thigh, his gaze bright in the gloom.

  There was a scrambling noise in the bushes, the sound of voices. Charlie’s heart, so recently almost flat-lined, kicked up again with a vengeance. Before she knew what was happening, Jake had pulled her down into the water with him with a splash. The sudden shock of cold stole her breath. Her body was blocked by his bigger one curling around her. His mouth was warm on her neck, effectively hiding her face. She could sense the burn of his gaze on the strangers she could only hear. The sounds stopped.

  “Oh, well. Excuse us.” There was a purr of amusement. “Having your fun for the night, Jacob, sweetie?”

  Jacob? Who was this?

  She tried to move, but with Jake’s big hand palming the back of her head, Charlie was trapped.

  “Nothing wrong with having fun, Bri.”

  “Of course not. But when you want some real entertainment, you know where to find me.” There was a snort of laughter, then more scrambling as their intruder moved away. Charlie caught the glitter of blond hair out of the corner of one eye before silence descended once more.

  After a long moment, Jake moved back a hair, looking down at her. Their legs were tangled together in the sweet coolness of the water, the pulse of her release still ticking in every pleased muscle of her body.

  “Goddamn, Charlie. You were . . . that was . . .” Jake pressed her back into the edge of the pool as if the interruption had never happened. His hips grazed her belly and she sucked in a breath as the rigid length of him dragged over her. “I lied.”

  “What?” She was too dazed yet to think properly.

  “I lied. I can’t be satisfied with just a taste. I need more. Please.” His fingers slipped under the water and around her ass, pulling her into him. The vertigo increased as this time she felt every hard inch of him fit snug and throbbing between her thighs.

  For a minute she went limp at the thought of Jake inside her. Really inside her. Not just his tongue, not just his fingers. All of him. Fucking her right here, right now. How devastating would that be? She shuddered.

  Would she even survive it?

  He would. His “fun for the night.” Because that’s how a man like Jake operated, wasn’t it? Something distracting, something new, and then on to the next flavor of the week. She’d shared her past with him and he’d left. If she shared her body, the same thing was bound to happen.

  It was excruciating to fight the languid pull of him, a pull that called to every atom in her protesting body, but she slipped back out of his arms and pulled herself up onto the edge of the pool.

  “No, Jake. Just . . . no.”

  “No?” His head tilted and his hands tightened on the lip of the pool on either side of her legs, but his tone was quiet.

  “No.” She flushed, feeling guilty, remembering the thick strain of his cock against her even as she pulled away. She stood over him and reached for a towel, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I know it isn’t exactly fair—”

  “I don’t expect payback, Charlie. It was my pleasure. In every way. I know how to deal with any fallout, trust me.” There was laughter in his voice, though she could sense the underlying tautness there. His words only left her more uncomfortable.

  “Well, okay then.” With no words for whatever the hell this situation was, she turned to go, her face burning. His fingers gently wrapped around her ankle, freezing her in place. Automatically, her gaze fell to his.

  He was smiling that big easy grin that did funny things to her insides. “You do taste like peaches. But even better, you taste like peaches and caramel. If there’s one thing I love even more t
han peaches, it’s caramel. You do know what they say about a man’s stomach, don’t you?”

  Her eyes narrowed and she forced him to release her with a kick.

  But Jake’s laughter made her stomach dance all the way to the changing area.

  * * *

  He was going crazy. But he hadn’t been able to resist. She’d been there, so prickly and distant, but so delectable. It’d been like a dare at first. He’d told himself he just wanted to get her to relax around him again, but that wish had ended with her coming on his tongue.

  Jake shuddered despite the boiling heat of the shower. He’d orgasmed twice already, thinking of the way she’d tasted, the way she felt . . . but it was really the way she sounded that had him so hard he couldn’t get his stupid dick to go down. The breathless way she’d begged, the sound of her moaning his name.

  Fuck.

  For a moment, he had the sudden urge to leave again. Get the hell away from this woman before she yanked his heart right out of his chest. But that was fear of the unknown talking.

  He’d made up his mind. Maybe he had even started making it that night he’d snuck into Charlie’s room. Lucjan may be a twisted motherfucker, but the man was also right. Jake had spent his whole life chasing revenge, risking his life, his freedom and his fucking soul. For what? He couldn’t get his mother back, and he wouldn’t risk Charlie. Not for anything.

  No. For once in his goddamn life he was going to get it right. He was going to protect her, no matter what it took.

  If that meant letting go of his mother’s killer forever, so be it. He stared into the billowing steam with an ache in his heart, but an unmistakable lightness there as well.

  He had to hope Stacia would understand. Darnell would get the message when he backed off, without the heat, the man would eventually decide they weren’t worth it.

  And he had to believe Mum would understand. Maybe her more than anyone. She’d lost her life because of Dad’s business, his reckless stupidity. Jake wouldn’t be that man to Charlie.

  Somehow he’d convince Stacia to see the light.

  In the meantime, he would treat Charlie better than any man had treated a woman since the goddamn beginning of time.

  Jake was almost thirty and he’d never even been in love. He chased women he didn’t care about, women who didn’t interest him, because he didn’t want to be tempted. He didn’t want to be distracted.

  Now he had a woman in his life who distracted the hell out of him. Tempted and beguiled him at every turn. She was a puzzle he might never get to the bottom of. But he’d sure have fun trying. Jake grinned. A lot of fun.

  Tonight had given him an idea of where to start. His Charlie wouldn’t trust pretty words or flowery gestures. No fucking way. If he tried to work his way into her heart with romance, his little cynic would suspect an act. Her armor would come down and he’d be shut down on the other side of it. Locked out forever.

  But as the incident at the pool tonight had shown, his little lifesaver had a passionate nature she’d obviously subdued for far too long. He could appreciate that—and exploit it. His lips curved.

  Jake had a feeling Charlie had never been on the receiving end of a man who was hell-bent on making a woman crazy.

  He smiled and reached for a towel. He was going to be that man.

  Heaven help her, Charlie would be his by the end of the week.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Almost a month later, Jake was forced to admit his plan was a total bust.

  He’d followed Stacia and Charlie to every gallery booking they’d done in the Northeast these last few weeks, but Charlie was even more devious than he was. He was beginning to realize just how much she’d perfected the art of dodging unwanted human contact over the years. She was a master of avoidance, and when she was forced to do the interaction thing and couldn’t hide from him, she made sure she was surrounded whenever he was in the room.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised to find she’d pulled another fast one.

  But he was.

  “She left?” He gaped at Stacia, unable to grasp the simple words. “You let her leave, alone?”

  Stacia raised an eyebrow. “Despite how you like to perpetuate the dungeon-master image when it comes to me, I don’t break out the thumb screws when a grown woman tells me she needs a break. Honestly, she deserved it. And we’ve got nothing booked now until that LA gig the week of July Fourth anyway. She’ll fly in for that. She promised.”

  “But I . . .”

  Stacia put a hand on his shoulder, her gaze surprisingly sympathetic. Somewhere between New York and Dayton, Stacia had changed her mind about him and Charlie. He’d actually caught her smiling more than once when she watched them together. But he hadn’t missed the sadness that would flicker through her eyes, or the way her right hand would reach over to touch the empty space on her left. Or the way her lips would thin when she caught herself. “You know he’s got eyes on her. It’s not like she’ll be without protection.”

  Stacia hadn’t spoken Lucjan’s name since Jake had told her about the Bratva brand her husband and Timor shared. She knew of Lucjan’s mark, of course, and had known the symbolism behind it, but since she’d never seen Timor’s, the connection was one his sister had never had the chance to make.

  He’d expected an outburst when he’d told her, something along the lines of Lucjan’s explosion when he’d heard about Stacia’s memories. Instead, his sister had gone quiet. Knowing her, this was likely the calm before the storm. He still hadn’t gotten the nerve to tell her he was ready to give up pursuing Darnell, but somehow, Jake thought she knew.

  She looked at him now with just a flicker of humor.

  “It wouldn’t hurt your case to give her some breathing room, baby brother,” she said. “You’d drive a saint batty the way you’ve been pursuing her. And if you hadn’t noticed by now, our Charlie is no saint.”

  * * *

  He was driving her mad.

  As she crossed the Illinois-Iowa state line, Charlie pounded the steering wheel of her car as a dark blue Charger pulled closer in her mirror. Even from—she glanced at the GPS—four-hundred and twenty some miles away, Jake Harris was invading her space.

  Just like he had last night, at yet another hotel bar.

  She could still hear his fucking voice.

  “You have no idea how good I can make you feel if you let me.” Jake’s voice was low, like a big cat purring in her ear as his hands roamed, warm and strong, sliding under the hem of her T-shirt, over her bare skin. The tip of his tongue trailed just below her ear. “I dream of you every night, spread out under me. I want to taste you again, Charlie, to make you wet and hot and then slide inside you.” Jake’s teeth caught her earlobe and nipped. “You want that, too, Charlie. I know you do. You want me.” She couldn’t think through the haze in her head, the need pulsing through every nerve in her traitorous body.

  Want him? Dear god, she had never wanted anything the way she wanted this man.

  But if she got him, what would she do then? Having Jake would be good. Very, very good. She already knew that. If it was just a matter of casual sex, she could maybe handle that. But with Jake . . .

  It wouldn’t be casual. It couldn’t be. As much as he drove her crazy, she liked him way too much for casual anything.

  Jake was warm and funny and sweet. It was impossible not to like the son of a bitch. He was the first person who’d found a chink in her armor in years. This wasn’t a man she could fuck and walk away from. She knew that down to her very soul. She had a feeling he knew it as well, hence Jake’s single-minded determination to get her into bed.

  But knowing what he was up wasn’t much help when his hands were on her, warm and rough and strong, the feel of that hard body pressed into hers, his breath hot against her throat . . .

  She’d almost given in last night.

  Almost.

  She’d even admitted how tempted she was. “I do. I want you, Jake.”

  He’d gone stock
still at those words. Held his breath. She’d reeled a little at the expression on his face. There was no mistaking how badly Jake wanted her, and the wonder of that was a heady thing. In the end, though, sanity had prevailed.

  “But this is never going to happen.” Somehow she’d put a firm hand on that hard chest and pushed him away.

  Sanity, she repeated to herself as she headed north to Minnesota and home. Sanity was keeping Jake at arm’s length. Or halfway across the country. Better safe than sorry, after all.

  The Charger passed her, its tinted windows a dark streak in the June-bright sunshine.

  * * *

  “We should run her off the road,” Timor growled as Archie gunned the Dodge. The man’s thin face was sour. Archie resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  Timor had never been the easiest person to get along with, but since the snafu in New Orleans, he’d become insufferable. To hear him talk, Jake Harris had superpowers, leaping from balconies and shit. They had been incredibly lucky it all hadn’t gone much, much worse. Not only had Harris been in the artist’s room, but the damn sister had still been next door with that psycho Polack’s men hanging around. Archie had practically walked right into them, running point for Timor. But Timor had refused to heed Archie’s signal to abort and almost gotten them both killed, or worse, arrested. No fucking way he was ever doing time again. Not for anyone.

  Darnell had been pissed, until Timor had told him about Harris being in the Gracen chick’s bed. Then all his anger had vanished as if it had never been. Suddenly, Timor was the man of the hour. The boss had been interested in every detail of their encounter.

  Very interested, indeed.

  Archie’s fingers twitched for his gun, wondering how upset Darnell would be if Timor had an accident that involved a bullet between the eyes and the Mississippi River currently rolling below their tires. Finally, he forced his fingers to relax on his thigh and his voice into an even and calm tone.