Belle shot Mariah a grateful look, embarra.s.sed that she'd had to reroute the conversation.

After all the work she'd put into making dinner, she shouldn't have had to work so hard to enjoy it.

Belle chipped in, trying to keep the conversation going even though funny stories weren't particularly common in her line of work. For one desperate second, she considered bringing up the green d.i.l.d.o incident.

In the end, she decided against it it was probably the one topic that could make the conversation even more awkward.

She and Mariah did most of the talking throughout the rest of dinner while Jackson and Wyatt ate silently. A faint heat burnt in Belle's cheeks, and she trusted her make-up to disguise the blush.

When Mariah retreated to the kitchen to take dessert out of the oven, Belle went with her.

"I think Jackson had a bad day at work," Belle said, keeping her voice low. "Sorry if we're putting a damper on dinner."

Mariah waved a hand, then stuffed it into an oven mitt. "I don't blame him for being annoyed. Wyatt could stand to learn some tact. I don't know what his problem is."

"You worked so hard on everything." Belle watched as Mariah pulled a pie complete with a latticed crust from the oven. "Is that homemade?"

"Yep. Fresh Georgia peaches were on sale at Food Lion." She shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

"Wow. Who are you and what have you done with Mariah?"

Mariah grinned, fanning the pie and sending steam wafting over the kitchen island. "Hey, I'll have you know I've become a pretty decent cook over the past few years. I don't always have time to make stuff like this, but it's fun to go all out every once in a while, especially if there's company."

"Do you like Wyatt that much?" Mariah and Wyatt seemed friendly and familiar enough with each other, but they hadn't exactly been radiating l.u.s.t or love.

Maybe Belle had just been too wrapped up in the tension to notice.

Mariah shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Anyway, this dinner is really for you and Jackson."

Belle's lips cracked in surprise. "Is that right?"

"I wanted you two to have a good time. I always thought you were good for each other and after what happened back in Atlanta, I figure you deserve it."

"That's sweet."

Mariah smiled. "I know."

Belle grinned. "So, do you have some c.o.c.ktails we can serve with this pie? I think we're going to need some liquid aid if we're going to get those two to stop pouting out there."

"Hmm..." Mariah turned for the freezer. "I might have something. Do you think mojitos will go okay with the pie?"

"I don't see why not."

"I'll make the drinks. You take the pie out and referee those two until I get there, okay?"

It was past ten-thirty when Jackson returned Belle to her apartment after dinner at Mariah Cardiff's.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asked after unlocking the door.

For the thousandth time, he marveled at the sight of her in that dress. It molded to her every curve, and the jewelry dangling from her ears glittered in the outdoor lighting.

He followed her inside, antic.i.p.ation warring with his guilt. Mariah was Belle's best friend, and he hadn't exactly made the greatest impression.

Of course, it would've been easier to be social if he hadn't had work on his mind and if her boyfriend hadn't been such an idiot.

Still, he dealt with idiots every day. It was his job. He should've handled it better.

"So what happened at work today?" she asked, her gaze locking with his as she sat her purse down on the counter. "I can tell it's been on your mind all evening."

He held in a sigh, drumming his fingertips on the kitchen island. "Sanders transferred over to my platoon."

"What?" Her jaw dropped.

"Days ago. I've been trying to ignore it, but today I found out that he's been spreading lies behind my back."

"What kind of lies?" Her eyebrows drew together.

Dread lurched in his gut, a weight he could feel. He didn't want to tell her. It was embarra.s.sing enough that everyone he worked with had heard the lie.

He'd brought it up though, and it wasn't as if he could leave her hanging.

"He's telling people I'm having an affair with his wife."

Belle's eyes widened, then narrowed. "That little a.s.shat!"

He laughed despite himself, more a choking sound than a chuckle. There was just something about hearing Sanders referred to as a "little a.s.shat".

"I'm serious!" She showed no signs of laughter. "What the h.e.l.l is wrong with that man?"

"Everything."

She huffed. "I guess he figures that if people believe you and his wife are having an affair, they'll think the domestic dispute was a lie you two cooked up to screw him over."

Hearing Belle echo his thoughts reinforced them. "That's what I'm thinking."

"n.o.body will believe him, will they? I mean, they know you. And they have to know what an a.s.s he is."

"The interim lieutenant doesn't know me, and it seems like he might believe it." He told her about his discussion with Harding.

Belle fumed there was no other word for it. She seemed more upset than he'd antic.i.p.ated, and he felt guilty. Still, a part of him appreciated seeing her so riled up on his behalf.

"No wonder you were in a bad mood." She touched his forearm, running her fingertips along the edge until she reached his hand, which she grasped.

"Sorry if I was d.i.c.kish at dinner."

"You weren't d.i.c.kish. You just seemed like your mind was elsewhere."

"Well, I wasn't exactly a social b.u.t.terfly."

She shrugged. "And Mariah's new guy was kind of ... tactless."

"That's one word for it."

One corner of her mouth tilted in a wry smile, and she tightened her hold on his hand. "You have work tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to keep you from getting any sleep..."

He squeezed back. "If I go home now I won't be able to sleep I'll be thinking about you in that dress."

His gaze drifted to her hips, hugged by the smooth green fabric.

"You're welcome to stay the night, if you want."

His heart rate increased, every beat a little quicker than the last. He pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his half-hard d.i.c.k.

Within seconds, he was fully erect and aching. The day had been s.h.i.tty, but the stress didn't touch his desire for her.

Nothing seemed to.

Slowly, they made their way to her bedroom. He couldn't keep his hands off her, and she didn't keep hers off him, either. By the time they sank down onto the bed, his shirt was unb.u.t.toned and he had that dress hiked up over her hips, exposing satin panties.

He slipped his fingertips inside them, teasing her c.l.i.t. Her p.u.s.s.y lips quickly grew wet, and he pulled the panties off. After that he stripped her until she wore nothing but those golden earrings. They dangled above her bare shoulders, catching his eye for just a second before his gaze gravitated to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Her nipples were hard and pink, irresistible. He teased them first with his tongue and then his teeth, until she was breathing hard.

His heart slammed against his ribs when she grabbed his d.i.c.k, pressing her palm against the front of his pants and rubbing slow and hard before reaching for the b.u.t.ton.

He flexed his hips, unable to resist pressing into her touch. Doing so made her hand slip, and it took longer for her to get his pants unzipped.

When he was finally free, she wrapped her fingers around his c.o.c.k. They felt hot and tight against his shaft, a teasing reminder of how much hotter and tighter her p.u.s.s.y was.

And wet. Her hand felt good, but it wasn't wet. Reaching between her thighs, he rubbed his fingers against her folds, his d.i.c.k throbbing as his fingertips became slick.

Sliding two fingers into her, he let himself have a taste of her heat. Immediately, she clenched around him, those hot walls compressing his knuckles and making him moan. Her hand started to slide a little more easily up and down his shaft, and he knew it was because he'd lost a little pre-c.u.m.

Curving his fingers, he ma.s.saged her front wall, searching for a particular spot. When her hand froze on his d.i.c.k and she gripped it tight almost painfully he knew he'd found it.

He wanted to be inside her, more than he wanted anything. But the pressure of her body bearing down on him, drawing him deeper in, was irresistible. Besides, he liked the raw contact feeling her clench like that around him, with nothing between them. Even if it was just his fingers.

It was real. Hot. Intimate and wet. It made him wonder what it would feel like to come inside her with no condom. He let himself revel in the thought, the fantasy. It was harder to imagine anything more pleasurable than f.u.c.king her like that, raw and free, and filling her with his c.u.m as she clenched around him.

A shiver of longing raced down his spine as he ma.s.saged the spot, going a little harder every time she gasped.

When the hardest contraction yet hit her, she fell back against the bed, her back arching as she let go of his c.o.c.k.

He groaned as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose and her hips sank while her p.u.s.s.y clamped down tight on his fingers. He was glad he'd waited, glad he'd resisted the urge to bury his d.i.c.k inside her immediately. There was something sweet, searing and powerful about seeing her sprawled out in front of him like that, her p.u.s.s.y literally in the palm of his hand as she gasped.

Her cries were sharp, almost jagged, and her ribs heaved. A heavy pulse echoed through him, making his entire body ache in rhythm with her o.r.g.a.s.m. More pre-c.u.m leaked from the slit at the head of his d.i.c.k, and he could feel it beading at the fat tip.

He was f.u.c.king hopeless. Desire for her wrecked him; in that moment, he would've done anything to keep it from ending. But after a few last, breathless moments, she gasped.

"Stop. Stop." She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't stand it anymore. It feels too good, and too I don't know."

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her body, his gaze lingering on her swollen c.l.i.t.

She shivered, as if the sensation was too much.

He kicked off his pants and underwear before lowering himself onto the bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her naked body against his.

Her belly trapped his c.o.c.k between their bodies, and he probably could've come just from rubbing it against her if he'd let himself.

She placed a hand on his a.s.s, her nails sc.r.a.ping his skin. "You'd better get a condom. I put some in the night stand."

He kissed her first, deep and hard. The heat of her mouth lingered on his lips when he turned and pulled a condom from the box. Despite the fantasy he'd indulged in minutes ago, it was still exciting to roll the sleeve over his hard d.i.c.k. Putting the condom on meant getting inside her, and the thought drove him crazy, condom or not. Even with a barrier between them, he'd still be inside her.

He'd still feel her p.u.s.s.y squeezing him, would still feel her breath on his neck and hear her voice in his ear when she cried out as she came.

He rolled on top of her, laid between her open thighs and thrust inside her. It was simple, easy deep.

And tight. So tight. Every time they f.u.c.ked, it was like reliving the ecstasy of their first time, rediscovering how perfectly their bodies fit to together and how f.u.c.king mind-blowing it felt.

He rocked the bed for a long, blissful while. Looking down at her beneath him felt so right and so good that pressure pooled at the base of his spine, building with every thrust. He took it slow, and then he gripped her hips and rolled, stopping when their positions were reversed and she was on top.

She looked so f.u.c.king hot up there. Her cheeks were red, her lips were swollen and her hair was crazy. After a few seconds, she started going up and down, rocking against him and taking him deep.

He groaned, staring at her chest. Her nipples were still hard, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounced every time she lowered herself onto him. Eventually he pressed his thumb against her c.l.i.t, rubbing.

Within a few minutes, she came. It was like before, only this time her p.u.s.s.y contracted around his d.i.c.k, not his hand, wringing pleasure out of him.

He lasted until she was done coming. Barely. And then he stopped touching her c.l.i.t, gripped her hips with both hands instead and pounded into her.

The pleasure was intense white hot and gone too soon.

She stayed on top of him for a few seconds before climbing off. Even then, he didn't move right away.

As he stared at the ceiling, his head cleared and a sense of guilt encroached on his bliss.

What they'd done had felt so d.a.m.n good that it'd obliterated the day's stress.

He hadn't been numbed no, it'd been the opposite. She gave him pleasure so deep he couldn't be angry, couldn't be worried, when he was lost in it.

The only problem was that he couldn't help feeling as if he was indebted to her for that. After all, what had he done for her?

He'd been an a.s.s at dinner, and then they'd come here and f.u.c.ked. A pattern seemed to be forming one where he reveled in her and latched onto the pleasure the reprieve she offered. He didn't want her to think he was only interested in her s.e.xually.