One week later…
June 26th; 12:23 p.m.
Clarkstown, New York
Sitting on a brown sofa in his living room, Jacob pulled his mouth away from Stockwell’s only long enough to allow his shirt to be yanked over his head. He cupped hands at the back of her neck and gave her a deep kiss.
Straddling him, eyes closed, her knees buried into the leather cushion, she clutched as much of his shoulders as she could. Moving her hands to his waist and easing her butt back onto his legs, she transitioned to kissing his chest. Warm breaths found the side of her neck. Tingles zipped down her spine, forcing her to stop her advance.
His one hand at the back of her neck and the other on her lower back, both drawing her closer, Jacob planted soft pecks on her skin, starting at the crook of her neck and finishing below her ear. He paused to inhale her perfume before righting her head and pressing his lips to hers, tasting her lip-gloss. Cherry…I like cherry.
Rearing up, Stockwell curled arms around her waist, lifted the purple blouse over her shoulders and jerked her head free of the garment.
Observing a filled-out black bra with thin shoulder straps, Jacob touched the sides of the lingerie’s smooth band, his thumbs a fraction of an inch from the frilly, lace cups.
Stockwell wrenched one arm out of her shirt, put a hand on either side of his square jaw and cranked his head backward with her thumbs. Her top hanging from her elbow, she kissed Jacob—his lips, his cheek, lips. This feels so good, so right.
After ripping the blouse the rest of the way off her arm and tossing the thin clothing, Jacob slid hands up her back and fumbled with the back of the bra.
Stockwell felt the band in the middle of her back give way; a strap slid down to the crook of her elbow. His face in her hands and his mouth on hers, she scrunched her eyebrows. You’re doing it again, Dee. Stop it. Stop it now.
Putting flat hands on Jacob’s bare chest, she flexed her triceps, but craned her neck to receive more of his kisses. This time it’s different. He’s different. Her hands pushed harder against his body, Don’t screw this up, but she extended her neck further forward. I’m not the same person. We’re good together. No, no, no…shut it down, Dee. Shut it—performing a bench press off his pectoral muscles, Stockwell jerked away and leapt off the couch.
Jacob reached out and leaned forward, but she slipped from his grasp. “Is everything all right? Did I do something?”
A hand on the waistband of her jeans and the other against her forehead, she blinked several times before hurrying to the other side of the room. Stockwell stopped the floor fan from oscillating and let the breeze hit her flushed chest and neck. She pulled up the bra strap and reattached the undergarment.
Jacob watched the five-eleven’s long blonde hair flutter behind her shoulders. His eyes dropped, and he spied a tall and lean body in blue jeans. He stood, came up behind her and touched her shoulders. “Look, if I—”
Stockwell spun around and planted a hand on his sternum. “Don’t do that. Don’t…just please don’t touch me right now.”
Jacob stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not you.” She sidestepped him and hurried to the couch. “It’s me.”
Plopping hands on the waistband of his own pants, he glanced away. ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’ He shut his eyes. Aw, crap...I’ve heard that one before.
The FBI agent shoved arms into sleeves and donned her top. “This was a mistake to come here.” She slipped a foot into a black flat and affixed a holstered Glock 19M and a magazine pouch to her waistband. “I should’ve called first.” She frowned. Like that would have made a difference, Dee.
“I didn’t mind you showing up unannounced. It was a pleasant surprise. It was great actually.” He made a quick face. Up until thirty seconds ago, that is.
Wiggling her second foot into a shoe, she glimpsed him, and looked down. You’re sweet, but I just can’t go down this road again…not with you. She bolted for the door. “I need to go or I’ll be late for a meeting.”
Stepping left, Jacob took hold of her upper arms. “Please tell me what happened, Deanna.”
Stockwell’s hands shot upward, her forearms smacking his.
He released her.
She stared at his chest. “Like I said, you did nothing wrong. I just can’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again.”
He showed her his palms. “What mistakes? I thought we had something good here.”
She met his gaze. We do. She glimpsed his lips and came back to his eyes. That’s why this needs to stop before it turns bad. She touched his face and ogled his jet-black hair—swept to the side—broad face, subtle cleft chin and gray eyes. In the right light, they appeared silver. Curving her hand around the back of his neck and rising to tiptoes, she gave him a long, passionate kiss before skirting around him.
Slack-jawed, the thirty-five-year-old member of the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team—currently on hiatus—watched her escape through the front door. What the…I know I haven’t dated in a hundred years, but… he ran fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head. If this is what it’s like, he let out a burst of air, I’m not sure I have the patience.
He gaped at the door, his mind replaying what just happened. Stockwell had showed up at noon. They exchanged pleasantries for fifteen minutes before things turned affectionate, finally ending in her hasty retreat. He held out his hands and stared at them. Did I touch her inappropriately? The front pocket of his pants buzzed, sending an outward shudder in all directions. Did I say…his thigh gyrated again…something to offend her? A second later, he dug out and glimpsed his phone before putting the call on speaker. “Go ahead, Higs.”
“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything, Mr. St. Christopher.”
Jacob spied the door and saw a vision of Stockwell leaving. No, unfortunately you’re not. “No, you’re not. What’s up, Higs?”
“How soon can you get to the office? I believe I have found our next assignment.”
The six-two, two hundred pound former Army Ranger twisted a wrist and studied his watch. Fifteen to get cleaned up…one-hour drive… “Ninety minutes tops. I should be there by two o’clock, Higs.”
“Splendid. That’ll afford me ample time to schedule your travel arrangements. We’ll convene in the conference room.”
Jacob lifted his head. “Travel arrangements? This assignment isn’t in New York?”
“Please don’t delay. I’ll provide you with all the necessary details upon your arrival.”
Jacob opened his mouth, but shut it when the phone line went dead. He glanced at the cell and huffed. “Have a safe drive, Jacob.” He set the device on the counter. “Thank you, Mr. Higginbottom. I’ll see you soon. Until then, have a pleasant afternoon.” He strode across the living room. “You too old chap.” Jacob bobbed his head and mimicked Higs. “Splendid, my good man….off you go now and be quick about it.” Continuing the imitation of his boss, he disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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