The Christmas He Loved Her (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 2)

“There is that,” she murmured, her hands now buried in his thick waves as he moved and tossed the blanket off them.

For several moments she stared into his eyes, trying to read him, but couldn’t. Something had changed. She felt it. Just the thought of the outside world was enough to crack their delicate environment.

And that was something she wasn’t ready to give up, not yet anyway. Cool air rolled over her skin, but she didn’t feel it. She felt nothing but a need and desire to connect to Jake. To keep whatever it was they had alive as long as she could.

She reached for him and with a groan slid her mouth across his cheek as his hands cupped her hips and moved her between his legs. His erection was heavy, thick and full, and she ached at the thought of him inside her.

“Jake,” she breathed, her voice shaky with emotion.

“I know,” he answered, and she kissed him as if she were dying. As if there were nothing in the world except Jake. As if the connection between them were the only thing that mattered. His hands caressed her skin, lingering here and pressing there, finding her pleasure points and toying with her until she was mad with desire.

In the space of a few short days, Jake had learned exactly what she needed, what she wanted and craved, and he played her with everything he had.

There were no more words. No soft sighs of contentment or whispers of need. There were only straining bodies, slick wet skin, and moans of pleasure. They made love with an urgency that fed on an undercurrent of desperation or maybe sadness. Raine felt it, but she was too weak to fight it. She was too weak to do anything but take what Jake was giving, and for Raine, it was life.

He’d brought her back to life. Not just with his body, but with his mind and spirit. Here in this cocoon they’d built over the last few days, she’d laughed and cried and laughed some more. They’d argued the way they always had, from politics to music to last Monday’s football game. Her soul was no longer asleep. It was awake and hungry and full of need.

When Jake thrust into her that last time, his body shuddering in release, Raine held him close, listened to his frantic heart, and was more afraid than she’d ever been.

“Jake,” she whispered into his neck.

His cell went off and he swore, the ringtone a blues riff. “Shit, hold on.”

He slipped from her arms and padded across to the kitchen, her eyes following in his wake. His tall, muscular frame was something else—holy hell, was it ever—but her eyes lingered on the scars near the small of his back. Scars that were a testament to the fact that this man was, or rather had been, a soldier. A soldier who’d given a hell of a lot for his country and a soldier who had lost so much.

The ringtone told her it was his mother calling, and just thinking about her mother-in-law was enough to kill the buzz that she’d been floating in. It made it think of her own mother, and of the twenty or so text messages Gloria had sent over the last week or so. Marnie and Gloria meant reality, and reality meant…

At this point, Raine wasn’t sure what it meant anymore, other than complicated.

“Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her head snapped up and she watched him. Jake’s shoulders were hunched forward, and he rubbed the back of his neck slowly while listening to his mother. She heard him swear again before he turned and caught her watching.

The look in his eyes was fierce, and she swallowed thickly, turning her eyes away and settling on Gibson instead.

“Ma, I’m not…there’s no way in hell… I can’t…I just can’t.”

The rest of his words were lost as he walked over to the kitchen window, obviously wanting some privacy. She was dying to know what had him upset, but it wasn’t her place to ask, so she remained silent.

He tossed his cell onto the table and stared down at it, brooding. Everything about his posture screamed tension and anger. It was so far away from where he’d just been.

She had a bad feeling about this.

“Everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” His answer was brisk, and the bad feeling in her stomach tripled.

Jake pulled on his jeans, stretched out his shoulders, and rolled his neck. When he turned to her, no longer were his eyes filled with mischief and desire; they were curiously devoid of emotion.

God, had her world changed already? Had complication dared to infiltrate her space?

She pulled the blanket up to her chin. “What did your mother want?” she asked, hating that she wanted to know so badly.

Jake’s jaw clenched, and for one second something so bleak and painful crossed his face that she sat up and pushed her hair from her eyes, suddenly more than just a little concerned. “Jake? Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m good. Everything’s good.”

But it wasn’t. No way in hell was it.