Jill Shalvis - Aussie Rules

Something hit the ledge and she looked down. A condom packet.

So they weren’t going to compound their errors.

And then she couldn’t think at all because he’d dipped down a little, his thighs on the outside of hers, and slid inside her with one powerful thrust.

She cried out, and so did he as she pushed back against him for more. Please more. “Bo.” She couldn’t stay still, couldn’t, but when she wriggled, desperate, his hands gripped her hips, his voice low and rough in the dark. “Don’t move. Christ. Don’t move-”

But she couldn’t help it. He was huge inside her, filling her to bursting, and when his thumb pressed over her again, she began to come. At her first shudder, he groaned, his fingers digging into her hips, gripping hard as he began to move, too, thrusting into her again and again, so that she burst once more, or maybe that was still. She didn’t know, didn’t care, as long as it went on and on…And then he came, pulsing powerfully inside her, sinking to the floor with her as if his legs could no longer support them.

“So,” she finally managed, flat on her back. “We ended up ceiling-watching here, too.”

He let out a strangled laugh, and still breathing hard, rolled to his side, hauling her into the curve of his body. “It’s better with you.”

“I went off like a bottle rocket.” She was a little embarrassed, actually, at how fast she’d come.

“Twice.” He grinned down into her face.

“You counted?”

“I didn’t have to, you screamed it to the moon.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

She felt herself blush, and he laughed again. “What, you’re shy now?”

“Did I really scream?”

“My name,” he said, looking quite pleased with himself.

Yeah, well, all he had to do was touch her and she went up in flames. Hell, he looked at her and her body temperature soared off the damn chart.

Truth was, she could get overheated just thinking about him.

And yeah, he’d made her scream. She shook her head and struggled to her feet. “Okay, time for you to get out of here.”

He was shaking his head before she straightened. “I’m not leaving town yet, not with you still getting threats. Not with this whole thing unresolved.”

She stared down at him. She’d meant for the night, but that his leaving the country had been forward enough in his mind to assume she’d been talking about that…

She crossed her arms, suddenly extremely aware that she was naked. “I, um, meant it was time for you to leave my house.”

His lazy, satisfied, cat-in-cream smile vanished. “Mel.”

No. No, she didn’t want to hear it, and she whirled away.

“Shit, you’re a genius,” she heard him mutter to himself as he got to his feet, but she sped up as she headed toward her bedroom.

“Mel-”

She shut the door, and in the dark went straight for her dresser, planning on putting on clothes. All of them. She needed armor, she needed-

A lock on her bedroom door, apparently, because Bo walked right in, still butt-ass naked. “Mel-”

“It’s late,” she said in the coldest voice she could muster, which wasn’t very cold with him standing there looking like some kind of pagan god.

“I know. Mel, about me leaving the States-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Mel-”

“Seriously. Don’t want to talk about it.”

“I was careful not to lead you on,” he said quietly. “I never led you to believe I was staying-”

“No. You were careful,” she agreed. “Now please go.”

He looked at her for a long moment, during which she tried to remain cool and more importantly, not lose it.

“I’m guessing this is nonnegotiable,” he said.

“Give the man an A.”

For the first time in memory, Mel’s inner alarm clock didn’t go off and she overslept. By the time she entered North Beach, she was fifteen minutes late and found herself the target of a handful of gazes, all staring at her in shock.

“What?” she asked a bit defensively to everyone sitting around the café bar still eating their donuts. “I’m a little late, so what?”

“Two times in as many weeks,” Char said, concern all over her face.

“Yeah, did hell freeze over?” Kellan asked.

Ritchie snickered, then sucked it in at the glare from Mel, who grabbed a donut and lifted her chin. “So I slept in, no biggie.” On second thought, this was a two-donut morning, and she snatched another, double-fisting, before stalking off to her office.

Neither the lemon pastry nor the jelly-filled donut appeased the hole in her gut. She sat at her desk organizing her flight schedule, trying not to think about last night in Bo’s arms, and how for one glorious moment she’d completely lost herself in him. She also tried not to think about the day before, flying to Mexico to find Sally, finding instead more information that had only made her feel worse, and then nearly getting shot in the process…

Tried not to think about any of it…

It didn’t help that as the day passed, she realized something else. Morale seemed to be up at North Beach, and bad attitudes down. People were happy. Content. Char was singing at the top of her lungs to Bon Jovi. Nothing new, but she’d hugged everyone three or four times today already. Al, out of the dog house, had sold some photos, and also had a gallery interested in his work.

Oh, and Dimi was smiling. Smiling, answering phones, charming customers…

Mel would have suspected alcohol but she knew Dimi had given it up.

Even Kellan and Ritchie seemed different. They’d been on time and awake. A miracle in itself.

And then there was Ernest. He hadn’t moaned, groaned, complained, or so much as set a spider jar on her desk, not once the entire day. And he’d even offered to bring her lunch.

She’d nearly fallen off her own chair at that one. Ernest, offering his own money up for lunch.

How was it possible that everyone around her was getting cheery again, feeling excited and hopeful, and she’d lost all taste for it?

Oh, yeah. Because Bo Black was going to walk out of her life.

Shortly after noon, Char popped into Mel’s office.

Mel’s nose twitched at the delicious-smelling something in Char’s hands, and perked up slightly. “I hope it’s carbo-loaded.”

Char set down a tuna melt, with the cheese and tuna squeezing out the sides of the thick French bread. “For you? Always.”

Mel took a bite and moaned. “You are a goddess.”

“Yeah. A pregnant one.”

Mel stared at her as the food stuck in her throat. “What?”

Char sank into a chair and put her hands on her belly. “Got myself knocked up. Think Al’s going to kill me?”

“If it’s the delivery boy’s.”

Char laughed, but grew serious quickly. “He’s going to think I did this on purpose, but I didn’t. Remember last month, when we went camping?”

“You mean when you guys went for the overnighter specifically to ‘do it in the woods’? Yes, I distinctly remember the feeling of my brain matter coming out my ears as you told me how great it was.”

“We got carried away before using a condom.” Char sighed. “But these things happen.”

Mel thought of yesterday, and how after facing down that gun in their faces, she and Bo had pulled over on some deserted Mexican road, and right there in the heat and the dust had ravished each other in order to remember they were alive.

They’d gotten carried away as well. “Yeah. These things happen,” Mel said weakly. Oh, God. What if it happened to her, too? “I thought you were getting hot flashes. Doesn’t that mean you’re done with all this stuff?”

“Apparently not.” Char smiled. “Look, we’re married. We have a decent home and we love each other. Now we’ll have something to show for that love, that’s all.” She paused. “Did that sound good, or did I rush it?”

“Depends on Al’s mood.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s a good one.”

“So, you happy?” Mel asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Mel hugged her tight. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Char patted her still-flat belly. “Thanks, honey. Hey, you notice Dimi skipping around this morning? She didn’t even light her candles or incense. And she was smiling. She looks so pretty when she smiles. Anyway, I’d say she must have gotten lucky, but you know what? I think in her case, it’s the opposite. I think she’s finally learning to make herself happy.” Char leaned in and hugged Mel. “One down, now only one to go.”

Mel frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You, honey. I mean you. You have to learn to make yourself happy.” And then she left Mel alone to wonder how exactly to do that.

At the end of the day, Dimi buzzed Mel in her office. “Line one,” she said. “It’s him.”

Mel stared at her phone as if it was a coiled rattlesnake. She didn’t have to ask who. It was Matt, with possible news on Sally.

“Tell me exactly what he says,” Dimi instructed. “Every word.”

“I will.”

“Unless it’s bad news. Oh, God, do you think it’s bad news?”

“Bad in comparison to what, Dimi?”

“Right.” Dimi drew a ragged breath. “Right. Maybe…I know this sounds crazy, but maybe he’s calling to tell us he found out it’s all some sort of mistake.”

Mel had no hopes left, false or otherwise. “What kind of mistake involves taking money and property that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Yeah,” Dimi sighed. “Wishful thinking and all that.”

“I’m going to take the call now,” Mel said gently. “I’ll just buzz you when I’m off-”

Before she’d even finished her sentence, Dimi opened Mel’s office door and slid inside, breathing heavily. “Well?”

“Uh, I haven’t taken the call yet,” Mel said dryly, then clicked over. “Mel Anderson. Can I help you?”

“How many aliases for Sally are you expecting?” Matt asked.

“Well?” Dimi whispered. “Is she alive?”