Nobody But You (10 page)

S
ophie opened her eyes and realized she was wrapped up in a pair of strong, warm arms, which were curled possessively around her. Pulling back an inch, she found Jacob watching her from those fathomless dark eyes.

“Welcome back,” he said.

Oh God, she'd dozed off in his big, deliciously comfy bed. She would blame the damn boat, the stupid lake, too many sleepless nights in a row, but she could tell her denials would fall on deaf ears because, given the smug look on his face, he knew the truth. It was the orgasms.

“Tell me I wasn't snoring,” she said.

“Nope.” He paused. “Drooling, yes. Snoring, no.”

“I did not drool!”

He just smiled.

“You should know,” she said, “I'm only here for your shower.”

His lips twitched. “Sure.”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I mean it. I slept with you because you have hot water. Sure, the sexy times were okay, but don't mistake this for something…
mushy,
because I won't put up with that.”

He tipped his head back and laughed.

She stared at him. “You're supposed to be insulted.”

“And you're supposed to be honest. Stop trying to scare me off.”

She huffed out a sigh. “It's my thing.”

“Your thing?”

“Yes, and I'm good at it.” She frowned. “Why didn't you believe me?”

“The sexy times were just okay…?” he repeated, heavy on the disbelief.

She blushed. “That could've been true.”

He laughed again. “Babe, you came, like, twenty-five times.”

“Fine.” She struggled with something to insult him with, but the guy even woke up looking hot. “You farted in your sleep,” she said.

“Try again.”

“Fine, you did something else. You…talked,” she said, rather brilliantly, she thought. “You totally talked in your sleep.”

It was subtle, his reaction, especially since not an inch of him moved, but he definitely…
retreated
?

“Hey, I'm kidding,” she said. “You didn't talk.” She paused. “But if you had, what is it you think you'd have said?”

He closed his eyes.

“Okay. So I'm assuming it wouldn't have been ‘I know where the bodies are buried,'” she tried to joke.

His eyes opened, and she realized her mistake instantly. This was a soldier, a Wounded Warrior even if his wounds were on the inside. He probably knew where
lots
of bodies were buried and her joke had been in poor taste. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “That was thoughtless.”

He didn't speak for a moment, just let out a slow, deep breath like he was gathering his thoughts. “I think I probably do sometimes talk in my sleep,” he said. “Or dream badly. It's like that for a while after a rough tour.”

“I can imagine.” Unable to help herself, she sifted her fingers through his short hair and shook her head. “Actually, I can't imagine what it must be like to come home after all you've been through and try to fit into regular civilian life.”

“I didn't expect to come home.”

He met her gaze when hers flew to his face.

“I didn't,” he said. “I thought I'd be a career soldier.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Brett's death.”

The pain, sharp and dark, was buried deep in his words, pain he was clearly fighting to hide, and it slid right through her, taking her a moment to find her voice. “Were you hurt in the explosion? Is that why you're on leave?”

His profile was tight, the corners of his mouth hard. “Just a few scratches and a concussion, no big deal,” he said. “Another buddy was hurt far worse. Chris Marshall. He broke every bone in his left leg and lost his arm.” He lifted a shoulder. “I can't complain. But I'm not crazy about the idea of going back.”

Neither was she. “What will you do when you've finished out your tour?”

“Something quiet,” he said.

She gave him a little nudge. “Like maybe live in a cabin on a mountain lake?”

His eyes warmed as he let his gaze roam over her face. “Something like that, yeah.”

She got lost in his eyes a moment and then reminded herself that she had to get out of here and to work before she did something she regretted—like lick him from head to toe. “I gotta go.”

“How much time do you have?”

She eyeballed his clock. It was nine. “I don't have to be at work until ten thirty today.”

“Good to know.” He pulled her beneath him and settled himself between her legs, his hands roaming, warming her up and revving her up, too, until she arched into him, already halfway to heaven. “You mind?” he murmured, mouth at her breast.

She slid her fingers back into his hair to hold his head to her. “Only if you stop…”

A while later, she was drifting again, mind blank with all the pleasure, when, from Jacob's dresser, the alarm on her phone went off. With a groan, she closed her eyes.

“Someone dying?” Jacob asked, not moving an inch.

“Just me.” She sighed. “That was my alarm reminding me to call my sister.”

“You set an alarm for that?”

“We talk on her days off when she needs a moment from her kids.”

“At least you call her,” he said, something in his voice. But his eyes were closed, so she couldn't tell what.

“Feel free to talk to her now,” he said, his chest rising and falling with his slow, even breath.

She loved the sound of his morning voice, rough and gruff. An octave lower than usual. Heart-stopping. As was the sight of him in the bed, covered only by a sheet that had pooled low on his ripped abs. She blew out a sigh and reached for her phone.

“Oh, my God,” Brooklyn answered. “I was having the best sex daydream about Chris Evans!”

“Sorry to interrupt that,” Sophie said. “Hard to compete with sex and Captain America.” Then she realized what she'd said and slid a look at Jacob.

He was paying her no mind, seemingly not listening. In fact, she thought maybe he'd drifted off to sleep.

“Listen,” Brooklyn said. “Dad's birthday is coming up. I thought we could do a surprise b-day visit.”

“Are you kidding? Dad hates surprise visits.”

“No, he doesn't.”

“Yes, he does,” Sophie said. “Remember the time I flew home for Father's Day and brought him a kitten because his therapist had mentioned it'd be good for him to have something to take care of?”

“Well, who'd have guessed he was violently allergic?” Brooklyn asked.

It'd been a disaster of epic proportions. “At least I called nine-one-one in time to get him an epi shot before his throat closed up completely,” Sophie said on a sigh.

“And you did try to make it up to him by sending him and Mom to dinner the next year at that new fancy restaurant downtown,” Brooklyn said.

“You mean the time they got stuck in the elevator and the paramedics and firefighters had to rescue them? No. No more surprises, not from me.”

Brooklyn laughed, and Sophie laughed a little, too, but deep inside she couldn't help thinking that she was tired of always being the joke in the family. Then someone yelled “Mom” in the background of Brooklyn's call, followed by a bellow of “
wipe me
!”

Sophie laughed, genuinely this time.

“Please come visit?” Brooklyn asked.

Sophie sighed. “Yeah. I'll come.” When they disconnected, she tossed her phone aside, flopped back to the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

Jacob peered down into her face. “I can see the wheels turning.”

“I don't want to be like this,” she said.

“Naked?” He stroked a hand from her belly to a breast.

“No,” she said, and snorted, rolling to her stomach so she wouldn't feel so…exposed. “I don't want to be like this to my family. The one they laugh at.”

He palmed a butt cheek, squeezed. “Then don't.”

She craned her neck, cutting her eyes to his. “You make it sound easy.”

“It is,” he said in the way of an alpha man who'd never given a single damn about what anyone thought of him.

And maybe there was something to that. Maybe she was holding herself up to an impossible standard, like to Brooklyn, who was a really great person but had a very different life from Sophie. Different life, different needs.

And what are my own needs exactly
?

Her alarm went off again.

“You have another sister to call?” Jacob asked.

“No, that's my get-my-ass-ready-for-work alarm,” she said, and got out of bed.

Jacob came up on one elbow, hair mussed, eyes heavy-lidded and sexy, the sheet slipping down to his lean hips, watching in amusement as she raced around putting on her clothes, swearing a little when she hopped into her sweatpants and nearly fell over.

“What's today's temp job?” he asked, smirking, the sexy ass.

“I'm going to be a sous chef for a lunch shift. The regular took a few days off.”

“Really?” He looked impressed. “You're a chef?”

She shrugged. “I love to cook. And I'm good at it.”

“What restaurant?”

She hesitated. “Cooking tacos at Paco's.” Where the hell had she kicked off her shoes?

“The Mexican taco truck that parks at the City Building?” Jacob asked.

“Yep.”

He stared at her for a beat and then laughed.

She stopped looking for her shoes and went hands on hips. “I know you're not laughing at me because I'm as white as they come and everyone else at Paco's…isn't.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” he said, and got out of bed.

Naked, he stalked her, catching her up against his dresser, pinning her in, nuzzling his face against hers until his mouth brushed her ear. “Think of me today,” he said in a voice that was pure sex.

“Wh-what should I think of?”

“About where my mouth was a few minutes ago,” he whispered, and slipped a hand between her legs.

Her knees wobbled. With a chuckle, he caught her. “I'll be thinking about how good you tasted.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and she shivered.

“I can't cook and think about sex,” she said. Liar, liar…

“Try. You can practice right now. What are you thinking about right this minute?”

How his amazing tongue had made her squirm in the very best of ways. How even remembering it made her squirm again. “Are you fishing for compliments on your technique?” she asked. “Do I need to stroke your fragile ego?”

“Not my ego, but if you're looking for something to stroke—”

She pushed him. With a laugh, he released her. “Have a good day making tacos. They have the best tacos in the state.”

“Yep,” she said, “and today's are going to be the best in the nation.”

“I'd never bet against you,” he said. “And now I know what I'm having for lunch.”

She found herself staring at him with a dopey smile.

“You know,” he said, “you're pretty cute when you're being nice.”

“What am I when I'm not nice?”

“Hot as fuck.”

Something went through her at that, something warm and…dangerous. He believed in her, without question, when he had no reason in the world to do so.

I'm yours for the duration…

And for the first time, she wondered just how long that could possibly be.

Jacob watched her go, watched her run up the dock to her boat. Feeling like maybe his heart had shifted in his chest, he rubbed it.

What had just happened?

Either he'd been hit by a Mack truck or he'd been flattened by one Sophie Marren. He'd just experienced the hottest, most erotic sex of his life, and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get a repeat. Which made him pretty much screwed, because it'd been the best thing to ever happen to him.

Fifteen minutes later she rushed off her boat, heading up to the road. She was wearing skinny jeans rolled up her calves, a halter blouse, and damn, a pair of FMPs.

He shook his head, smiling. Her glass was definitely half full. And here was the thing. He always saw his as half empty. He was in a dark place and just trying to survive, and yet here was this crazy hot woman who was his opposite. She was funny and light and…the highlight of his entire day.

And somehow, even as screwed up as he was, he knew that much. Maybe they weren't opposites after all. They'd found lots of common ground in his bed. And at that, memories assaulted him, the length of her curvy body undulating beneath his, arching up as he cupped her breasts in his hands.

“Better bring your A game tonight,” she yelled over her shoulder as she got into…a cab.

The one and only cab in town.

That made him laugh as he sat on the porch and ate the breakfast she'd brought him hours before. It had long gone cold, but he didn't care. Hell, compared to some of the shit he'd eaten, this was a five-course meal. Halfway through, he pulled out his cell phone and did what he'd been doing every single week for the past nine years.

He called his mom.

She answered on the second ring. “Darling, you're an hour late on your check-in. Everything okay?”

“Yes, sorry, just got detained.” By the best sex he'd ever had. He looked down at the McDonald's food and shook his head, still having no idea what the hell he thought he was doing with Sophie.

“Well, I know I've taught you that it's rude to be late,” his mom said. “Now I've got to write you a note for school and for your teacher. Make sure to also apologize in person.”

Jacob leaned his head back against the railing of the porch and let the early-morning sun bring him some warmth. “I plan to apologize to everyone.”

“You're a good boy,” she said softly, warmly. “And, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“You sound different this morning. More…relaxed.”