Matzoh and Mistletoe Page 3

  Christianson snorted and raised his brow. “Yeah, know how that goes. Hannah and I were looking for a quiet place to, er...talk, too.”

  Both Becca and Hannah started laughing, giggling really, breaking the awkward silence. He gave up and joined in. “Right. We all need to eat and get back on the road, anyway. Watch your back.” He slapped palms with Christianson, nodded politely to Hannah and escorted Becca back inside. Right before they stepped into the meeting room, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “We’ll finish our talk later, when we’re alone.”

  * * *

  Jeremy hadn’t been wrong. The second half of his shift was bat-shit crazy, and the first half hadn’t been a picnic. Maybe it was the unusually warm weather, but they’d been called to an inordinate amount of drunken brawls. And, an hour away from the end of his work day, they were here for a domestic disturbance in a house at the end of one seriously spooky lane.

  Jeremy had ordered her, in no uncertain terms, not to leave the car. And also to be prepared to call for assistance if he needed it. She knew why, because these kinds of calls were the most volatile, but it made her stomach hurt. She could hear the screaming from here, and she sat in the car, hand hovering over the radio.

  It was a long five minutes before another cruiser pulled in behind Jeremy’s. Thank God, because he’d been in there alone a long time by himself. It was an officer she’d seen in action last year, a woman who looked too petite to be able to handle anyone older than a middle school student, but she’d seen Officer Preston drop a mountain of a guy.

  Becca gasped as the officer strode up the walk to the house and nearly got hit in the head, first with a flying toaster and then with a lamp. She sidestepped them both and spoke into her radio.

  Becca could hear it in the car. “Request immediate backup at my current location. Subject is holding a baseball bat and threatening his wife. Kohler’s inside with them, but it looks like things are breaking down. No sirens.”

  Her heart clenched. Please let him be safe. Please let him be safe. She repeated the mantra over again in her head as two other cars slid to a stop, lights flashing but sirens silent. She watched the other officers try to engage, heard the violent shouting coming from inside.

  It was the longest twenty minutes of her life, but eventually Jeremy stalked out escorting a disheveled-looking man in handcuffs. The guy was still swearing and struggling, and Jeremy had a small scrape on his cheek.

  Becca had seen Jeremy in action before and was always amazed at the relative calm he exuded. Oh, his jaw was tight and she could see the tension in his muscles, but he was professional and purposeful.

  He opened the rear door of his cruiser and guided his prisoner in, making sure the guy didn’t hit his head. Then he came around her side of the car and drew her out, leading her away from the car. “I don’t want you sitting in there alone with him while I deal with the rest of this. He’s a nasty piece of work.”

  She reached up and lightly touched his cheekbone. “What happened?”

  He made a disgusted noise. “I forgot to duck and I got an elbow in the face. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, but it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”

  She winced when the man in the car started screaming again. She turned her head, shocked to see a woman with a black eye being led out in handcuffs, too. “I don’t understand.”

  Jeremy winced. “Yeah, that. She got violent with Preston when I cuffed her husband. I’m with you. I don’t understand it, I never have, but some women feel the need to protect their abuser.”

  “I’d let him rot,” she muttered under her breath. “Serve him right.”

  He grinned then, a quick slash of one that was devastating in its surprise appearance and blatant approval. “I do believe you would, Ms. Rickman. I do believe you would.” One of the other officers called his name. “C’mon, let’s get this finished.”

  She walked over with him, happy to be away from the screaming man. She could still hear him, but it was less threatening with Jeremy by her side. Sam hadn’t been like that, but she wondered if that’s why Jeremy had pulled her out of the car. No, near the end of their marriage, when things were going really bad, Sam had been sneakier. He couched his disapproval in ways that made it sound like he was instructing her in the proper ways to be a good Jewish woman.

  She was lost in her own thoughts when she realized Jeremy was talking to her. “Sorry, what was that?”

  “I have to take him to central booking. You can ride back with Preston and call it a day, or you can come with me.”

  “With you,” she said, not hesitating. He’d thrown a curveball at her today, and she wanted a chance to explore it. She had no idea if he had plans for tonight, but she needed him to finish that conversation from the hallway. It had been so busy they hadn’t had the opportunity, and really, while he was working wasn’t the right time. Bottom line, she wanted whatever time with him she could get. “Ready when you are, partner.”

  He grinned. “Rock and roll.”

  * * *

  Almost done, almost done, almost done. Another shift was coming on and he was about three hours past ready to be off work, especially since he had the next four days off. This was a Christmas for the books, not as traumatic as the one he’d shared with Becca three years ago, but busier than any other one had been, and busier than any Christmas had a right to be.

  He dropped off his vehicle and stowed his personal gear in his locker in the garage. “I need to turn in my paperwork, change back into my street clothes, and then I’m clear.” Fuck, he knew what he wanted to say, so he just needed to spit it out. “I want you to wait for me.”

  A slow smile spread across her face. “Sure.”

  He grinned, relief pumping through his veins. He was still dealing with the adrenaline rush from that call from hell, and he knew exactly how he’d like to re-channel it. “Ten minutes, max.” He left her in the squad room while he did the fastest turnover he’d ever done. In eight minutes, he was back and she was on her phone. He only caught the end of the conversation.

  She snorted then laughed in the completely unrestrained way he’d grown to crave hearing. “You are so bad. I know, I know. If I can’t be good, be careful. Shouldn’t that be my line?” There was a long beat of silence, then a sigh. “I get it. I do. He took enough away from me, and I shouldn’t let him take any more.” She listened for a moment and then a sexy smile graced her lips. “Isn’t he, though? Okay. Later, Hannah.”

  She looked up from the desk much as he had when she’d stood in the same place a mere nine hours ago, smiling at him. Nine hours, and everything had changed. She was single. So was he.

  Maybe Christmas really was the season of miracles.

  He came around the desk and held out his hand. She looked at it, then looked at him and bit her lip. He waited patiently. Hell, what was another few seconds compared to five years?

  She placed her hand in his as she stood and then, when she was on her feet, he tugged gently until she lost her balance. Her hand flew out and she all but fell into him, one hand braced against his chest.

  “Oh!”

  He grinned at her. “Hi there.”

  She laughed. “That was fast.”

  He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I had incentive.”

  Her face flushed, but she backed away from him, drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. He wished like hell he could see inside her head, because the hamster in there was running at top speed.

  “Do you have plans for tonight?” she asked.

  She’d beaten him to the punch. “Not really. I had dinner at my sister’s last night for her Christmas Eve thing. Crazy kids, lots of noise. Could go back tonight, but it’s not really what I want after today’s shift.”

  “I can understand that. I can’t promise you a Christmas feast, but would you like to come over for dinner?”

  He was still holding her hand, and he squeezed it lightly. “I was just going to ask you the same thing. I’d love to, but would you mind i
f we go to my place first? I need to feed Oscar.”

  Her brow lifted. “Oscar?”

  “My cat. He showed up in my yard one day. He’s a little...grouchy,” he said, grinning. “My nephew named him, and it fit.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were at his house, and Becca pulled into the driveway behind him. He tried to imagine what his place looked like to someone else, but he couldn’t picture it. Scrooge’s house, maybe. No outside lights, no wreath on the door. He wasn’t against them, but he usually didn’t bother. His neighbors, on the other hand...

  “Wow,” Becca said as she walked toward him, her eyes round. “That’s a lot of decorations. And lights.”

  He nodded. “My guess is you can see them from the space station.”

  “Or Mars,” she quipped, grinning.

  He laughed. “True enough.” As soon as his feet hit the porch, the yowling started behind the door. “Jeez, cat. A little louder, why don’t you?”

  He opened the door and nudged the cat back inside. “Come in,” he said gruffly, swearing under his breath. Damned cat. “Excuse the mess.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” She came in behind him, came to a dead stop, her mouth open in a wide O that put all kinds of kinky thoughts into his head. “Or maybe it can. What happened?”

  “Oscar. Underwear fetish.” Once again, his cat had managed to get his dresser drawer open and had dragged his boxer-briefs around the living room, and then had added to the décor with a splash of socks. And was that...? “Jesus, cat. My jock, too?”

  Bec laughed as she squatted down to scratch Oscar’s ears.

  When the beast started purring, he was shocked. The cat barely tolerated anyone, even him. Of course, if she petted him that way, he’d purr too.

  She grinned. “I’d help you pick them up, but...”

  The idea was tempting, and if they’d already established some boundaries, he’d have her doing the cleanup. Naked. And he’d be following behind her, touching her as she bent at the waist to get them. His jeans got tighter.

  Cart before the horse, asshole. The reminder rang through his head. Shit, he didn’t know if she was even interested, since they’d never finished that conversation in the hallway. And even if she did want to see where things could go, he liked kinky sex and that wasn’t every woman’s thing.

  “Be right back.” He scooped up his things and put them back in his drawer, careful not to let Becca see into his bedroom. He didn’t want to scare her off, and the wall holding his floggers and canes was probably a bit too much information for right now, especially considering the situation with her ex. Still, they were a part of who he was, and though he wouldn’t hide what he liked from her, he wouldn’t shove it in her face, either.

  When he came back, she was sitting on his sofa, his cat trying to crawl into her lap. He stepped into the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. “C’mere, beast. Chow time.” He poured food into a bowl and the cat came running, bumping against his leg in the feline version of thank you. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She stood and prowled around his living room, then stopped dead and turned to him. “I never expected to be in your house. Ever.”

  Jesus, she didn’t pull any punches, did she? “And I never expected to have you here, either. But you’re here now.”

  She worried her lip and the urge to kiss her nearly knocked him over. He started toward her, intent on one thing. So many fucking years, he’d wanted to soothe that lip she bit by habit, to kiss the tiny hurt away, to take what he’d always felt was his.

  And now he could.

  Chapter Three

  The intense look on Jeremy’s face made Becca’s heart skip a beat. He pulled her toward the sofa, then tugged her down beside him.

  “It was so busy we never got the chance to finish our talk,” he said, his voice husky in a way she’d never heard from him before. A sexy voice, one that sent shivers down her spine. “Have you figured it out? Am I the only one who feels this pull?”

  She swallowed hard. Truth time. “No, you’re not. I—”

  He never let her finish getting the words out. He tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in, slanting his mouth across hers. It started out gentle, but she moaned in her throat at the taste of him and he took that as permission to go further.

  Thank God.

  He tasted like peppermint candy canes and kissed like a bad boy. Her lips parted on a sigh and he dipped his tongue inside, stroking hers. She felt the jolt straight to her toes...and points in between. She kept her head long enough to think, I always knew it would be like this, and then she stopped thinking and just let herself feel.

  She didn’t know how long it lasted, but when he finally broke the kiss, she was breathing hard and so was he. And his breath and hers weren’t the only things hard. There was an obvious erection behind the zipper of his jeans, and her nipples felt tight and tender. Was he the only one who felt that zing between them? Hell, no.

  “Christ.” He swept his thumb across her cheek and cupped her face with his palm. “Who knew?”

  She had. She leaned into the touch and he flexed his fingers. As she reached out to touch him too, he snagged her wrist and stopped her. “Jeremy?”

  “If I do anything you don’t like, tell me and I’ll stop right away.” His eyes were blazing hot and they’d turned more green than blue.

  Well, that answered that. Green means aroused.

  He lifted her hand up over her head and skimmed the fingers touching her face along her throat and then down her arm until he’d reached her other wrist.

  Her heart pounded as he encircled that one too, lifting it up to join the other. He guided her backward so she was lying on his sofa, stretched out. And then he was on top of her.

  Oh, God, it all felt so good. He felt good, his erection pressed between her legs. It had been nearly a year since she’d felt a man’s body against hers in an intimate way, and she wanted to scream at all she’d missed because of Sam. She pushed him out of her mind. Not here, not now. God, not now, or she’d lose it.

  Jeremy curled her hands over the arm of the sofa. “Leave them there.”

  The absolute authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine and a rush of heat between her legs. “Okay.”

  He flexed his hips once, pressing himself against her core. He grunted but then he pushed himself off her and she moaned. “I know, kitten, but I want to play with you for a bit.”

  Play? She understood soon enough when he knelt over her, trapping her legs beneath him. It gave him more balance, better leverage, but not enough body contact for her. Not nearly enough. Then he put his hand on her stomach and she stopped worrying about what he wasn’t doing and concentrated on what he was doing.

  “Love the way you look in this sweater, like a naughty elf. It’s so soft,” he murmured. “It’s been killing me all day. I brushed up against it when I hugged you at the station, and I wondered if your skin felt as good as it did. I figured it must. Then when you took your jacket off, I saw it barely met the top of your jeans. I swear it was an accident when I brushed your back. If I’d known how smooth and warm your skin would be, I wouldn’t have touched you. The thought of it has been torturing me all day. And now, here you are, in my home stretched out before me like a holiday feast.”

  Oh, God. He had one hell of a way with words and, though it sounded like he wanted to touch her, he hadn’t moved his hand yet. Her stomach quivered.

  He slid his hand to the side and leaned forward, rubbing his face against the sweater over her stomach, like a cat. “Mmm, yes. Soft sweater. But that’s not what I want to feel. Not really.” He locked eyes with her then grabbed the edge of the sweater in his teeth and, with a little help from his hand, tugged it up so her stomach was bare.

  As he drew it up her body, the whiskers on his chin lightly abraded her skin, and she shuddered. “Jeremy, please,” she begged, her eyes still locked with his, but she wasn’t sure what sh
e was begging for, exactly. Back off? No, not that. More. Definitely more.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” A devilish grin lit his face and he drew a finger over her skin, sometimes using the pad of it, sometimes the nail, scratching her lightly. “Feel good?”

  “Oh, God, yes. Please don’t stop.”

  “How about this instead?” He dropped his head and licked her, drawing his tongue across her skin, dipping into her belly button. The muscles in her stomach trembled, and he laughed. He pushed the edge of her jeans down just enough to bare the top of her hip bone, sucking at the silky skin there, following it with a nip from his teeth that made her arch her back. “I guess so.”

  He continued to tease her, to torture her with his velvet tongue, never moving away from her bared stomach. Her hands clenched and unclenched against the arm of his sofa, and she rubbed her legs together, trying to ease the ache inside. He caught her movement, though, and to her utter shock, he grinned wickedly then slapped her hip, hard enough to make it sting. “None of that, bad girl.”

  She froze, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he’d hit her, or because the rush of heat that followed the stinging sensation made her core ache even more.

  He must’ve felt her tense, because he stopped dead, his face paling. “Oh, Christ. I, um...shit.” He started to push away.

  “No, wait. I want...” Her begging words drifted off and she licked her lips, trying to make the jumble of thoughts in her head clear. “I need...” She paused again, shook her head, but she still couldn’t make sense of it. “Jeremy?”

  He sat back on his heels and ran his hand through his hair. “I think it’s time for us to talk.”

  What? No. She wanted to scream, but he pulled her to sitting and tucked her close, his strong arms locked around her. To her surprise, her panic started to ebb in his tight embrace, although she was unable to prevent the rush of words from her mouth. “You hit me. But it felt... Why did you stop?”