"Have You Seen Her?" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rose Karen)

Chapter Twenty-four

Saturday, October 8, 10:15 P.M.

Jenna was out of the Volvo and halfway up the stairs to her apartment by the time he got the keys out of the ignition. Muttering a curse, he followed, catching up with her at her front door.

She looked up from searching her purse, her eyes accusing. "I think it's better for both of us if you just went home, Steven," she said sofily, then turned to look behind her with a scowl. "I'm all right, Mrs. Kasselbaum. We just had a fight. If you'd care to come out in your hair curlers I'd be glad to tell you all about it."

The door clicked closed and Jenna gritted her teeth, dropping hdr eyes to search her purse again. Dismissing him.

"Jenna, we need to talk."

"I think you've said quite enough for one evening, don't you think?"

He blew out a breath. "I said I was sorry. Just open the door so we can discuss this in private, okay?"

She shook her purse in frustration. "I'd open the door if I could find my damn keys."

The door behind them opened and a gnarled old hand appeared with two keys connected with a bread bag twisty-tie. "Thank you. Mrs. Kasselbaum," Steven gritted and took the keys, remembering he still hadn't changed the deadbolt on Jenna's front door. He ignored Jenna's outstretched palm and unlocked the door himself, holding it open as she squeezed past him with a glare.

He closed the door and leaned against it. Watched her hang up her jacket and run a soothing hand over Jean-Luc's back before sending the dog back to his bed in the corner. The dog glared at him, able to read Jenna's mood.

So could Steven. She was upset. She had a right to be. He'd been jealous and curt and had embarrassed her in front of Davies. "I said I was sorry."

She nodded, her back to him. "Yes, you did. Now would you care to tell me why?"

"Why I'm sorry?"

"No, why you threw that little tantrum back at the bar."

He gritted his teeth at the trivialization. "It wasn't a tantrum."

She turned around, scorn on her face. "Then what was it, exactly, because I'm confused. I only know this is the second time you've jumped to the wrong conclusion when you've seen me talk to another man. Your track record leaves much to be desired, Agent Thatcher."

He shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Thursday night at the hospital-when you came in with Neil and I was with Ned and Lucas. You were angry then, too."

Steven locked his arms across his chest, remembering how he felt seeing her in the arms of another man. He hadn't been angry. He'd been hurt. But now he'd be damned before admitting that to her. "I was not angry. Surprised, maybe, but not angry."

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine." She lightly pushed him away from the front door and he let her do it. Opening the front door she gestured for him to leave. "I'd like to continue this when you're willing to talk to me," she said, in what he imagined to be her schoolteacher voice. It grated on him. "But it's late and I'm tired and I'd like you to go now."

He stared at her for a full minute. She meant it. She was throwing him out. "Davies wants you for himself," he heard himself say, then waited.

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. "Well, Steven, you of all people should know we don't get everything we want. You actually thought I…" She let the thought trail away and shook her head. "If you could even think I could go with him not twenty minutes after talking about making love with you?" She swallowed hard. "Then we weren't talking about making love. We were only talking about having sex. And to borrow a trite phrase, I'm not that kind of a girl." She motioned to the hallway with a flourish. "Good night, Steven."

Uncertainly he stepped out into the hall and a second later was staring at the door she'd quietly closed in his face. Slowly he trudged down the stairs and to his car where he had an eagle's eye view of Jenna standing at her window, looking down at him.

She just stared down as he stared up, her expression so disappointed and grave. No hysterics or thrown pottery as Melissa would have done. And he heard Mike's voice in his head. "Not all women are Melissa." Steven knew that. He knew Jenna was nothing like Melissa. He'd known it from the very start. Yet at the first opportunity he'd allowed himself to believe the worst. He'd wounded her before she could wound him.

And he'd done a damn fine job.

He watched as she went into the kitchen, coming out with the container of ice cream she'd taken comfort in the night Casey got hurt. The night he'd told her he could fall in love with her. Because she was beautiful and kind. Every man's dream.

His dream. So get your ass back up there and apologize, his self told him severely. So he did.

"Jenna, open the door," he coaxed when she didn't answer. "Please." He'd leaned his forehead on her door when he heard a giant sigh behind him and turned to find Mrs. Kasselbaum in her robe and hair curlers looking as if she really wanted to take a switch to his hide.

"Do I have to do everything for you people?" she demanded in an exasperated voice. "I gave you the keys not ten minutes ago. Have you lost them already?"

Steven dug in his pocket and felt the twisty-tie prick his finger. "No, ma'am." He brought out the keys and showed them to her. "Here they are."

She rolled her eyes. "And there is the door. Do I have to draw you a map? Key, door. I swear, young man, if my safety is in your hands, I'm going to buy a gun."

Steven felt his lips twitch. "No, ma'am, don't do that. I'm sorry we woke you."

"Don't let this become a nightly occurrence," she snapped and stepped back into her apartment.

Jenna looked up, startled when her door swung open and Steven walked in as if he owned the place. She glared at him, wishing she had never let him into her heart. Wishing she'd never given him the power to hurt her so badly. Wishing Mrs. Kasselbaum didn't have a spare set of keys to her apartment. "I thought I told you to go away."

"I changed my mind."

"I didn't." Sensing her mood, Jean-Luc curled up at her feet and she could feel a low growl vibrating through his body.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, right," she said bitterly. "We seem to have had this conversation before."

He took another step closer and she could smell his cologne. He smelled so good. "I'm an idiot," he said, looking so good. So damn good. Her heart kicked up a notch and she felt her skin sizzle. And cursed the fact that she was so easy when it came to him.

She looked down into the ice cream, fighting the urge to forget his tantrum and throw herself into his arms, to simply take up where they'd left off before Davies spoiled everything. No, she corrected herself. Before Steven thought the worst of her. "I figured that out the day we first met."

"You were right then." He came closer until his hand closed over hers, sending the spoon back into the ice cream and a current straight down the middle of her body. "You were right tonight. I was a jealous jerk. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him and knew she'd be lucky to hold out for a reasonable explanation. She was a done duck. "Why are you a jealous jerk?"

He tugged on her hand and she let him pull her to her feet. "Because I never had a woman look at me the way you do," he said softly.

Damn. Slick words. "Save your rehearsed lines, Steven," she managed. "I'm not interested."

"They aren't rehearsed lines," he said sharply. "It's the truth." He closed his eyes and she watched his lips move as he counted backward from ten. When his eyes opened they were calm. And vulnerable. "I was hurt," he said. "O saw the way you looked at Davies and I…" He shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to be different." His lip quirked self-consciously. "Special." He rolled his eyes. "It sounds really stupid when I say it out loud like that."

Her heart touched, Jenna shook her head. "No, Steven, it doesn't. You are different." She reached up and rested her fingertips against his jaw. "Special," she whispered.

His brown eyes flashed. "How?" His whisper was fierce. "Tell me how I'm different."

In that flash of a moment Jenna remembered the Italian place on Capitol and her own jealous feelings when the waitress brushed too close to Steven's side. And the way he just kept looking at her, Jenna, as if the waitress didn't even exist. He was wrong about Neil, but now she understood his pain. Something caught in her throat, making her voice shaky. "Because of the way you look at me," she told him. "Like I'm the only woman in the room."

His hands trembled as they gently framed her face. "You are," he whispered, then all she saw was his brown eyes as he came closer.

Then she closed her eyes and saw nothing at all. Just felt his mouth on hers, gentle at first. Then he groaned and she groaned and the kiss went wild and his hands were on her breasts through her sweater, then under her sweater and under her bra and finally on her bare skin. His fingertips plucked at her nipples and she heard the sharp intake of her own breath as she pulled her lips away from his. She looked up at him, panting just as he was, sure her eyes were just as aroused as his. But he was still holding back. She could sense it.

"What do you want, Steven?"

He never blinked. "Everything."

"So take it," she challenged in a whisper and that seemed to finally crack the hold of his control. Grabbing at the hem of her sweater he pulled it over her head, taking the bra with it. She could feel the burn of his eyes on her bare breasts as he yanked off his jacket, his shoulder holster, his shirt. Until he stood before her naked from the waist up.

His chest was covered with the coarse hair she'd only felt, but never seen. Golden, it shimmered in the light, beckoning her touch. Then he was kissing her again, hot openmouthed kisses that stole her breath even as he flattened her hands on his chest, moving her palms back and forth across the nipples that were almost hidden within the golden hair.

She wanted to feel the hairs on his chest against her own nipples so she slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer, her body drifting side to side, feeling the friction. It was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. But not enough. But he took care of that, too, grabbing at her butt and pulling her higher until she wound her legs around his waist and felt him pulsing against her. Ripping her mouth away, she looked into his eyes, panted his name. "Steven."

"Which room?" he asked hoarsely, settling her legs around his waist.

"Back one on the left. Steven," she said as he took the hallway back to her room at a near jog.

"What?" he said, sounding slightly out of breath.

"I bought condoms." Her cheeks were red, but she didn't care. "A whole box."

"Good," he muttered and pushed open her bedroom door. Taking the three steps to the foot of her bed, he dropped her so that she lay sprawled before him. "I only brought one."

"So we'll do this more than once?" she asked, meaning to tease, but hearing the question come out as sexy foreplay.

Roughly he pulled at the snap on her jeans and in three seconds had her stripped to the skin. His eyes started at her face and explored every inch of her body, while the muscle in his cheek jerked and spasmed and she felt more erotic than she'd ever felt in her whole life.

"God, yes. As many times as you'll let me." His eyes returned to her face and she felt another rush of moist warm heat between her legs. "I dreamed of your silk stockings and garters," he said softly, his voice smoky with desire. "Next time I want you to wear those for me. Only those." Blindly, he pulled at his belt, dropping his pants, kicking off his shoes. The boxers went next leaving him naked before her eyes. His erection jerked and she could see how engorged it was. He was ready. For her.

Blindly she reached for the box of condoms in her nightstand, wishing too late that she'd taken off the plastic wrap. As she struggled with the box, Steven slid between her legs, sliding his body up along hers, then leaned forward, bracing one hand on either side of her head. And kissed her. Hotly, erotically, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth in a prelude of what was to come. She ripped at the box and the plastic and cardboard came apart at once, sending a shower of condoms across the bed. She picked up one and tore the foil.

"Here," she said raggedly against his lips and unbelievably she felt him smile.

"Now?" He leaned back on one elbow and ran his hand down her body, over her breast, her stomach, his fingertips teasing against the juncture between her legs and she lurched up, a shiver making her hot and cold all at once. "What about foreplay?" He slid one finger up into her and she wanted to scream. Because she was close, so close. And because she wanted him inside her when she came, but her body moved against his hand of its own volition. She groaned and he shuddered.

"Now," she demanded, feeling the throbbing in her body, in her head. Everywhere. "Now. "

Sobering, he raised up on his knees, looming over her, and she watched him slide the condom down his length. Slowly. Down his very long length.

"Steven!"

Then slowly he aligned his body with hers and whispered, "Now," and plunged, entering her fully in one stroke. She cried out and he groaned her name and then he was moving, in and out, harder and harder. She lifted her knees to bring him deeper, feeling her body tighten and climb higher and higher, rocking against him until she couldn't bear it another minute longer. Until she arched and came apart, flying, truly flying, his name on her lips even though her throat didn't make a sound. Gasping, trembling, she fell back against the bed, her eyes focusing on his face tight with unspent passion, on his eyes, filled with a myriad of emotions. She trailed her fingertips down his back, the only movement she had strength enough to do. With a feral growl he followed her path into oblivion, his body straining, his muscles quivering, his face a thing of beauty in his release.

He collapsed against her, shuddering as he buried his face in the pillow. She held him, stroked his hair while his finely honed body jerked from the aftershocks. She'd heard it called afterglow, but after such an earth-shattering experience, aftershock seemed a more appropriate term. Finally he lifted his head and kissed her, making them both shiver anew.

"You came," he murmured, as if unsure she would, and even after everything they'd just done together, Jenna found she could still blush.

"I did," she returned, unsure if she ever really had before. Certainly not quite like she had tonight. And if her first real orgasm was on the night of the second anniversary of Adam's death… She pushed the thought to the very back of her mind, resolving to deal with the guilt later.

He moved his lips down her neck and she stretched to one side to give him better access. "I'm glad," he murmured against her skin and she smiled.

"Me, too."

He lifted his head and kissed the side of her smiling mouth. "How do you feel about seconds?"

She ran her hands down his back, cupping the very taut cheeks of his ass. He had an incredible body. "I don't know," she said and almost laughed at the disappointment in his eyes.

"Okay," he said although it was clear it was anything but.

"It's just that I don't know where we'll find any more… you know… protection."

His eyes gleamed and he reached out and grabbed a handful of foil packets and dumped them on her head. "I think we've got that covered, Jenna."

"Then yes, please. Seconds would be very nice. But I suppose we have to leave room for dessert. You owe me after all."

His brows snapped together. "How so?"

"You left my Rocky Road to melt all over the table."

His eyes crinkled at the edges. "I'll buy you another pint."

"Make it a gallon and we'll talk thirds and fourths."

"Jenna, are we talking about ice cream?"

She smiled up at him. "We're talking about anything you want."