Chapter 39

"My childhood home was firebombed last night and I don't know what to do about you. Of course I'm getting stressy."

His face disappeared in my neck and he murmured in my ear, "I can teach you better ways to deal with stress than downin' donuts."

I knew this to be true since he'd already expended a fair amount of effort on those lessons. Except for stressing out about why I was letting him visit me, after a night with him my body felt like I'd received a one and a half hour full body massage at the hands of a master while in a steam room.

I put my hands to his shoulders and exerted pressure, saying, "My stepmom and your commandos are in the kitchen."

His head came up and he looked down at me, his eyes warm and my belly got squishy. "We'll be quick and quiet," he whispered.

He could be quick? He'd never been quick before. He was a man who took his time and he did this in a good way.

"I can't have sex in a house that Meredith is in. And I can't have s*x with you because I haven't decided what to do about you."

I wasn't paying attention so when his hands met the hem of my nightshirt then went in and up, the warmth of them light on my skin made me shiver.

"How about I help you decide," he offered then his head dipped and his lips slid across my jaw and that felt nice, coupled with his hands still moving on me, I did another shiver.

I pulled myself together. "No, I need to make the decision on my own. I'm compiling a mental pros and cons list of whether I should explore things with you."

His head came up, his lips in a minor grin but the dimples were there. One of his hands stilled but the other one came out of my nightshirt, lifted and ran along my hairline.

"What you got?" he whispered.

"You're bossy, arrogant, intrusive, annoying and you crushed Troy like a bug without thought or remorse. Those are cons," I shared honestly.

His minor grin amplified.

See! Totally unrepentant.

"Oh, and you don't listen to me," I added.

More grinning then, "Do I have anything going for me?"

"On the very rare occasion you can be sweet, you're a cuddler and you carried me out of a burning building. Those are the pros."

"I'm a cuddler?"

"You spoon."

His brows went up. "That's important enough to put on your list?"

"Uh... yeah."

He stared at me, grinning nearly at a smile then he noted, "Fuckin' ridiculous what women think is important."

My eyes got squinty and I snapped, "Con!"

The grin became a smile when he whispered, "You forgot a pro, baby."

"No," I corrected. "So far, that list is exhaustive."

His hand in my nightshirt moved up and the warmth of it cupped my breast. I sucked in air and stilled, then melted and let out the air on a quiet gasp when the skin of his palm slid across my nipple.

"Definitely a pro," he muttered while watching my face then his head dropped and he kissed me. This was a triple threat because his tongue in my mouth, his hand at my breast (now with thumb action that was nice) and his hard, heavy body pinning mine to the bed was irresistible.

He was right, definitely a pro.

His mouth released mine, his thumb stopped its brilliant torture and his fingers cupped my breast and I found my fingers curled around the back of his head, my other arm tight around his back and one of my calves had moved to hook around the back of his thigh.

I was gazing up at him firm in the knowledge that I wanted to discover quick when he grinned and his warm hand gave my breast a firm squeeze.

"See what I mean, baby?" he whispered. "Definitely pro."

I blinked. Then I stiffened.

Then I stated, "And see what I mean, baby? Definitely arrogant."

He did that manly, deep, amused chuckle, dipped his head, kissed the indentation at the base of my throat, his hand disappeared from my breast and he rolled off me, taking me with him. We were on our feet beside the bed, his arms around me, before I could blink.

"You need to work, get shit done," he declared. "Tonight I need you focused."

"On what?" I asked.

His face got closer and his arms got tighter. "On me."

Oh boy.

"My parents are staying here," I reminded him.

"I got a place," he reminded me.

His lair. Hmm. Another shiver which he felt and I knew it because it caused him to grin another grin.

His arms gave me a squeeze. "Work, then tonight I add to the right side of your list."

I opened my mouth to tell him I should make my decision without my mind muddled by his superhuman sexual powers but I didn't get a word out. His head bent, his mouth touched mine and then, poof! he was gone.

I swayed a second without his strong arms around me and his solid body to rest against. Then I turned to stare at the bedroom door.

Then I muttered, "I hate it when he does that."

But I didn't. If I was honest, I thought it was cool.

I was scoring through work again after getting eggs, bacon and coffee from Meredith; sharing in her delight that it was "only the living room, honey, and I've been after your Dad for months for a new couch" and "I really needed a few days off, so now I get to put my feet up" (told you she always looks on the bright side); saying hello to the commandos; having a shower; accepting delivery of my laptop, bag, purse and jacket direct from the "scene" from another of Hawk's commandos; and holing myself in my office.

Cam and Tracy had called. Cam because she heard talk at the Station about the firebombing. Tracy because she heard about the firebombing from Cam.

Troy didn't call and this was either because he was nursing his wounds or because Cam and Tracy had kept this news from him because they thought he was probably nursing his wounds.

I gave some time to considering calling him but ended up deciding to give him time to nurse his wounds. Or at least this was what I told myself I was doing. Really, I was chicken.

Everyone knew that I was no go zone for chitchats outside of initial briefings about my childhood home getting firebombed, all of which were done. They knew I was about work and focus. So when my cell phone rang, I was surprised.

Then I figured it was Troy.

I picked it up, looked at the display and it said, "Hawk calling."