Jeffrey said, "I guess Nell told you about my dad."
"A little."
His laugh had a harsh edge to it. "Jimmy Tolliver was a small-time crook who thought he was walking into a big score. Two men were shot and killed robbing that bank, and now he's locked up with no chance of parole." Jeffrey picked up the hairbrush. "You talk to anybody in town, they'll tell you I'm just as bad as he is."
"I seriously doubt that," Sara countered. She had worked with Jeffrey for a while now, and knew that he always went out of his way to do the right thing. His integrity was one of the main things that had attracted her to him.
He said, "I got into trouble a lot when I was a kid."
"Most boys do."
"Not with the police," he countered, and she did not know what to say. He couldn't have been that bad or there was no police force in the country that would have accepted him, let alone given him the keys to the station house.
He added, "I imagine Nell gave you an earful about my mother."
Sara did not answer.
He started to brush her hair. "Is that why you sucked at Trivial Pursuit? You were too busy trying to follow what Nell was saying?"
"I've never been good at board games."
"What about other games?"
She closed her eyes, enjoying the stroking bristles. "I beat you at tennis," she reminded him.
"I let you," he said, though she knew he had nearly killed himself trying to win.
Jeffrey pulled back her hair and gently kissed her neck.
"We could have a rematch?" she suggested.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He did something with his tongue that made her sink back into him without thinking.
She tried to sit up but he would not let her. She whispered, "Your mother is in the next room."
"The toilet's in the next room," he told her, slipping his hands under her shirt.
"Jeff -" She gasped as his hand dipped below her pajama bottoms. She stopped him before he could go any farther.
Jeffrey said, "Trust me, she can sleep through anything."
"That's not the point."
"I locked the door."
"Why did you lock it if she can sleep through anything?"
He growled at her much the way he had growled over his high school teacher. "Do you know how many nights I laid awake in this very room when I was a kid, wishing I had a beautiful woman in here with me?"
"I seriously doubt I'm the first woman you've had here."
"Here?" he asked, indicating the floor.
She twisted around so she could see him. "Do you think that's some kind of aphrodisiac, telling me how many women you've had in your bedroom?"
He scooted a few inches across the floor, dragging her with him. "You're the first one I've ever had here."
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Finally, a way to distinguish myself."
"Stop that," he said, suddenly serious.
"Or what?" she teased.
"I'm not playing around."
"According to what I've heard -"
"I mean it, Sara. I'm not having fun."
She stared at him, not following.
"What you said to your mother," he told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not just having fun with you." He paused before looking away from her, staring at the bookshelf. "I know that's what you're doing, but I'm not, and I want you to stop saying stuff like that."
Every warning Sara had heard over the last few months came flooding into her brain, and she bit back the raging impulse to throw her arms around him and declare her love. Instinctively, she knew that part of the reason Jeffrey was saying this to her now was because he had no idea how she felt. Sara was not foolish enough to tell him.
Her silence obviously unnerved him. She saw his jaw work, and he stared somewhere over her shoulder.
Sara tried to face him, but he would not look at her. She traced her finger along his lips, smiling as she realized he had shaved for her. His skin was smooth, and she smelled his aftershave along with something like oatmeal.
He said, "Tell me how you feel."
Sara could not trust herself to answer. She kissed his jaw, then his neck. When he did not respond, she kissed the palm of his hand, knowing better than to tell him that was exactly where he held her.
Jeffrey put his hands on either side of her face, his eyes intense and unreadable. He gave her a long, sensual kiss as he pushed her back, and Sara felt herself melt to the floor. He cupped her breasts, using his tongue to bring out chills along her skin. Slowly, he started to work his way down, his breath a feathery kiss across her belly, then lower. He put his tongue inside of her, and Sara felt a momentary weight-lessness as everything in her body focused on that one spot. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him up toward her, making him stop.
His voice was a hoarse whisper. "What?"
She drew him closer, kissing him, tasting herself in his mouth. Nothing was rushed, but Sara felt the need for urgency as she fumbled with the zip on his jeans. He tried to help, but Sara told him, "No," relishing the weight of him in her hand.
"Inside me," she said, biting his ear until a guttural sound caught in his throat. "I want you inside me."
"Christ," he whispered, his body shaking as he tried to hold himself back. He reached for his pocket, trying to find a condom, but she pulled his attention sharply back to focus, guiding him inside her.
She arched up as he entered her. At first, he moved slowly, almost painfully so, until Sara's entire body was tense as a violin string. The muscles along his back were equally taut, and she could not help digging her nails in as she tried to pull him in deeper. Jeffrey kept the rhythm slow, watching her every move, tuning his body to hers so that several times she was taken to the edge, only to be gently brought back. Finally the rhythm increased, his hips grinding into hers, the weight of his body pressing her to the limit until the release forced her head back, her mouth open. He kissed her, stifling the sounds she made, even as his own body shuddered against hers.
"Sara," he breathed into her ear, finally letting himself go.
She held him inside her, and he started kissing her again, slow and sensual, his hand stroking the side of her face like a cat. Her body pulsed with aftershocks, and she slid her arms around him, holding him close, kissing his lips, his face, his eyelids, until he finally rolled to his side, resting his weight on his elbow.
She let out a short breath, feeling her body slowly come down from the high. Her head was still swimming and she could not keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried.
He stroked his fingers along her temple, touching her eyelids, her cheeks. "I love the way your skin feels," he said, letting his hand slide down her body.
She rested her hand on his, letting out a content sigh. She could stay like this all night – maybe even for the rest of her life. She felt closer to Jeffrey now than she had ever felt with a man in her life. Sara knew that she should be scared, should try to hold part of herself back, but right now all she could think to do was lie there and let him do whatever he liked.
His fingers found the scar on her left side, and he said, "Tell me about this."
Sara's mind reeled with white-hot panic, and she forced herself not to jerk away from him. "Appendix," she said, though the injury had come from a hunting knife.
He opened his mouth, and she was sure he would ask how she could be a doctor and not know that the appendix was on the right side, but what he said was, "Did it burst?"
She nodded, hoping that would suffice. Lying was not a normal habit of Sara's, and she knew better than to invent a complicated story.
"How old were you?"
She shrugged, watching him watch his finger trace along the scar. The edge was jagged, far from the precision slice of a surgeon's scalpel. A serrated blade had made the cut as the knife was buried nearly to the hilt in her side.