Page 22 of Operation K-9 Brothers
Chapter Seven
Nichole was practically bouncing in her seat, waiting for his reaction, and Jack couldn’t resist teasing her.He wrinkled his nose.“Looked pretty messy to me.”Fact was, it really was a sensual scene, and he was definitely going to reenact it with her.
“Oh.Well, I guess—”
“That we are so going to do that.”He chuckled at her puzzled expression.“I was messing with you.”
She punched his arm.“Ha-ha.Funny man.”
“That’s me, baby.”He glanced at the TV.“That was one hot scene.Back it up and play it again.I need to memorize it so I’ll get it right when we do it.”
The pleased smile she gave him went straight to his gut.He inwardly snorted.Who was he kidding?That smile was an arrow to his heart, andthathe did not want to admit to himself or anyone else.So she had burrowed her way into his head more than any other woman ever had.Didn’t mean anything.Not one damn thing.
“You’re going to have to do it without a shirt on,” she said as they watched the scene a second time.
“Uh-huh.I’ve figured you out.You’re just fishing for an excuse to see my manly chest.”He winked as he rubbed his hand over his T-shirt.
“Maybe, but you’re going up against Patrick Swayze, and those are some big shoes to fill.”
He lifted his leg, putting his foot in her line of sight.“Size thirteen, baby.You know what they say about that.”
She laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth.“Sorry.I didn’t mean to imply that you’re exaggerating the size of your...”She dramatically paused, then said, “Shoes.”
Damn this girl for making him like her so much.“You’re not paying attention to the movie.”He put his hand under her chin and directed her eyes back to the TV.“Does that thing she’s making look like a phallus?”
“Oh my God, it does.I never noticed that before.”
“If we’re going to make one of those, do you think my cock sock will fit it, or do I need to ask Grammie to make a bigger one?”
The girl he wanted out of his head before she took it over completely rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around her middle as she snorted laughter through her nose.
He grinned.His work here was done.
Dinner had been filled with tension of the sexual kind.He’d cooked the steaks on her grill, and she’d bustled about, making a salad and a crusty French bread loaf.He’d taken every opportunity to brush up against her, soaking up her shivers and sighs.And now they were in her pottery studio.
“So, this is it,” she said as his gaze swept around the one-car garage that had been made over for a pottery artist.
Shelves along the wall were filled with inventory, and he walked over to take a closer look at all the things she’d made with her clever hands.A figurine of a dog sitting at a young woman’s feet caught his eyes.He picked it up.“How much is this one?”It reminded him of her and Rambo, and he wondered if the two of them had been her inspiration.
“It’s yours.”
He glanced over his shoulder.“It absolutely is, but what did you plan to sell it for?”He wasn’t going to leave here without it, but he wasn’t going to take food out of her mouth either.This piece of art created by her would go with him back to Afghanistan, and every time he looked at it, he would think of the time he’d had with her.
“A dollar.”
He snorted.“Such a little liar.If you charged anything less than fifty for this one, I’d call you a fool.Since I know you’re not, sold for fifty bucks, and I consider myself lucky to have it at that price.”
When she only stared back at him as if he were a man she’d never understand, he stalked to her.“Does your pottery wheel need time to warm up?I’m only asking because I feel the need for...”He lowered his mouth until it was an inch from hers, and satisfaction rolled through him when her breath hitched.“Getting messy.With you.”
“You have to take off your shirt.”
Her words came out breathless, and he brushed his lips over hers.Feeling breathless himself, he stepped back before he forgot why they were in her studio.He hooked his fingers under his T-shirt, then paused.She’d seen his scars, but he was still worried that they repulsed her.
“I’m not that other woman, Jack,” she said as if she could read his mind.
No, she wasn’t.Together they pulled the shirt over his head.She took it from him, dropping it on her worktable.He stilled as she walked behind him, and like she had at the waterfall, she glided her fingers gently over his shoulder.He wished he had the words to tell her what her touch meant to him, how incredible her hand felt sliding over his skin.Then she pressed her lips on the worst part, the ugliest, where he’d suffered third degree burns.
“Nichole,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.Although he couldn’t feel much, knowing her mouth was on himtheresent a shiver down his spine.She stepped in front of him, palmed his cheeks as she lifted to her toes, and then kissed him.He tangled his fingers in her hair, but before he could deepen the kiss, she backed away.
