Head Over Heels

Love or lust?

Hard to tell. For all she’d done in her life, she’d had little experience with either. But it’d be nice to know which had driven them to this, which was fueling the passion between them, suspending her in a timeless beat. Sawyer’s chest was rising and falling quickly, as if he’d just finished a run. Watching him fight to control himself was a huge turn-on.

It was her, she realized, her making him pant. Her eyes drifted closed as a sweet cl**ax washed over her. She heard herself cry out, and then Sawyer’s low, ragged answering groan as he joined her.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on top of him, clinging to him with a quiet desperation that surprised her.

“You okay?” he asked, his incredibly sexy voice rumbling up from his chest where her face was plastered.

Since words were still beyond her, she nodded.

He lifted her head to look into her eyes. “Sure?”

She licked her lips. “Yes,” she managed in a croak.

“Okay, good. Maybe you could loosen the grip just a little?”

She realized it wasn’t just her arms and legs gripping him, but that her fingers were digging into his back. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She started to sit up, but he tightened his grip on her. “Just the nails,” he murmured, his hands soothing her, holding her still. “The rest stays.”

She relaxed again. Actually, slumped bonelessly against him was more like it. She had no idea how much time passed, but when she surfaced again, he was cradling her against his side, lightly stroking her back from the nape of her neck down her spine, over her bottom and the backs of her thighs, then up again as their breathing slowed.

Love or lust? she asked herself again. And if she asked him, would he have any more of an idea than she? No. She didn’t want to know. Because maybe it was a little bit of both. And besides, it wasn’t a question that needed answering now. She’d just take their odd mix of frustration, heat, affection, and desire and…enjoy it.

For as long as it lasted.

She lifted her head again to look at him. His eyes were closed, body relaxed, all the tension gone from his face. Feeling her gaze, he opened his eyes. “It’s good to be inhaler worthy,” he said.

She grinned. “I didn’t even need it, not during, not once.”

Reaching up, he tugged on a strand of her hair, mouth quirking into a smile. “I noticed.”

The joy of it surged through her, and she sat up, unable to contain herself. “I got an orgasm, and it didn’t cost me a thing.”

“I’m a regular blue-light special,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “And you even got a twofer.”

This was true. “And no asthma attack,” she murmured, still marveling at that. “No ER visit.”

Nothing to stop them…

Clearly realizing this at the same time, he rolled her beneath him, pressing her into the mattress, his expression dialed to Wicked Intent.

He was hard, and she shivered with anticipation. “Again, Sawyer?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, dipping his head to kiss her breast. “And then again.”

Chapter 20

“You have the right to remain silent. Otherwise, anything you say might be misquoted and used against you.”

Chloe Traeger

Chloe slipped out of Sawyer’s bed and scooped up her clothes. Sawyer came up on his elbow to watch her dress, hair tousled, eyes sleepy, looking for all the world like a lazy, sated wild cat.

“Gotta get back to the B&B,” she told him, torn between getting under his sheets again and facing her responsibilities. “Jax is working on the spa room today. And I’m bringing Lance some lunch and a chest rub. If Renee’s there, I’m going to spend some time teaching her how to make it for him. Oh, and we have a guest. A runaway bride, actually. She’s been with us a few days and I’ve been giving her spa treatments to cheer her up. I promised her I’d give her a body wrap today before I head to Seattle. I’m giving facials at some bachelorette party thingy at the Four Seasons.”

She’d pulled on her panties and was wriggling into her bra when Sawyer rolled out of bed and headed toward her with that singular-minded intent of his.

The wild cat once again stalking his prey.

“Oh no,” she said with a laugh, backing up. “I told you I’m busy today.” She pointed at him. “Stay.”

“Stay?”

“Yes.” She put a hand to his broad chest, feeling the strength of him beneath her palm. It was ridiculous to think that she could push him around. Except he’d given her all the power she’d wanted in his bed, and at the thought, her ni**les got perky.

Sensing capitulation, he reached for her but she evaded. “I don’t know what this is exactly,” she said on a shaky laugh. “But for two polar opposites, we sure get along in the sack.” Turning away, she picked up her shirt.

“We’re not all that different, you know,” he said.

She turned back to him and saw that he was serious. He’d found a pair of jeans and had them pulled up but not yet buttoned. Buttery soft, they fit him perfectly, lovingly cupping one of her very favorite parts of him. “Okay, so maybe we’re both…well, sort of single,” she allowed. “Alone.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You like believing that, I think. That you’re on your own.”

“I am on my own.”

“And your sisters are what, chopped liver?”

“Noooo,” she said slowly, not sure how they’d gotten so off track. “I mean I’ve been on my own until recently. Sometimes I forget that I have them.”

“And not just them,” he said. “There’s Jax and Ford now as well.”

“And Jax and Ford,” she agreed, looking around for her shoes, trying not to notice that he hadn’t included himself.

“And the people of Lucky Harbor who care about you,” he said. “Lance, Tucker. Amy. Lucille.”

She nodded again, fighting back…what? A growing resentment, she realized. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t owe her anything, certainly no pretty meaningless words that she’d doubt anyway. “Fine. I stand corrected. I’m not alone. But thinking otherwise is a hard habit to break.”

“Because you like thinking it.”

She shoved her feet into her shoes and turned to him, hands on hips. “Are you suggesting I like being a martyr?”

“No, I’m suggesting that I don’t buy the alone thing, and neither do you.”

Okay, definitely time to go. She turned to the bedroom door again, needing out. She hadn’t had an asthma attack when he’d been buried inside her, but she was closing in on one now.

“And me,” he said quietly to her back. “Are you going to leave me off your list?”

Chloe dropped her forehead to the wood. “You want on the list?” Her voice was strong. Which was good. Because she felt small. Small and weak, and wasn’t sure she could face him. And dammit, when had she become a coward?

She wasn’t. She was just a realist.

“I care about you,” he said.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned to him, letting out the question that she could no longer contain. “What’s happening here, Sawyer?”

He drew a deep breath and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Well, at least he was honest. “Maybe I need to know.”

“Do you?” There was no amusement in his expression, no mockery in his voice. He was asking her to think about how deep she wanted to dig, how much she truly wanted to hear.

She nibbled on her lower lip and fought with herself. A part of her wanted to admit that yes, she needed to know how he felt about her, that she was, in fact, dying to know if he was as flummoxed as she was over what was happening between them. She needed to know that she was more than a good time to him, that he thought about her, ached for her like she was coming to ache so desperately for him.

But the other part of her, the stubborn, cynical part, refused to ask. Because that would be putting herself out there, laying herself bare before him, and she didn’t do that. Ever.

“Chloe,” he said softly, watching her carefully. “You can’t even tell your sisters how you feel about them. If I told you how I felt, you’d—”

“Have an asthma attack?” She put her hand to her very tight chest. “Dammit.”

“Take a breath,” he instructed firmly, moving closer, stopping when she held up her hand. “You’re holding your breath.”

God, she was. The air whooshed out of her lungs in one big massive exit, leaving her deflated. She had no idea if that was relief that replaced it, or desolation.

“Now inhale,” he directed.

She did. And then again, ignoring him when he closed the distance between them and cupped her face. “This is panic,” he said, studying her features. “Not asthma.”

“I know!” She grimaced and pushed free. “I’m working on that. And for your information, I do care about my sisters.” At his raised brow, she crossed her arms. “Which means I’m your normal, average woman. A normal, average woman who’s just messing around with her local sheriff.”

“Chloe.” His laugh was short. “You’re beautiful, smart as hell, and can make me lose my mind. But you are not, nor will you ever be, average.”

“Hey,” she said, not missing that he didn’t correct the “just messing around” comment. “I could be average if I tried.”

“That wasn’t a put-down.” He ducked to make eye contact, his hands on her arms. “I like you just the way you are.”

Sweet, but doubtful. “Well, I wouldn’t mind a little bit of average, you know?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because…” She trailed off and rubbed her chest, which was still way too tight. Because his eyes were reflecting something far too close to sympathy, she scrubbed her hands over her face so she didn’t have to look at him. “Never mind. Just ignore me.” She got to the front door before he spoke.

“Chloe.”

“What?”

“Average is boring.” He came close, pulled her inhaler out of her pocket, and shook it for her before handing it over. “Have you ever thought that maybe your asthma’s triggered by emotional responses rather than physical ones?”

“It’s beginning to occur to me,” she admitted. “Not that it matters in this case. We’re just…messing around.” She felt the doorknob at her back and reached behind to grip it, desperate to flee. God. She was so full of shit. The man had taken the time to research asthma, for God’s sake. If showing meant more than telling, then damn, he’d hit the bull’s-eye. She opened her mouth, praying something brilliant would come out, but all she managed was a “bye” before she escaped.

Even after his morning coffee, Sawyer was still thinking about the look in Chloe’s eyes as she’d left his bedroom, the look that said he’d somehow disappointed her.

He was good at that, disappointing people, but admittedly, she’d really gotten to him. She’d seemed confused and vulnerable, which had caught him off guard.

He’d felt the same. Christ, they were a pair. And work wasn’t the time to think about it or he’d get himself or someone else dead, so he forcibly cleared his mind.

His first not-so-big surprise of the day was to learn that Mitch had been picked up at the crack of dawn, high as a kite. He’d already plea-bargained by naming his drug source.

Todd.

According to Mitch, Todd was doing some heavy dealing for a big drug lord. Unlike Mitch, Todd was smart enough to stay off the crap. Apparently Todd and Mitch were equal partners until Mitch had started caring more about his own consumption than selling for their head honcho, and Todd, worried about losing his meal ticket, cut Mitch out of a deal. Now Mitch was pissed and scared enough to point the finger.

But Todd was only the middleman to the bigger fish, a fish that the DEA was already trying to corner. They were now going to use Todd to lead them to him

Sawyer couldn’t say that he was all that surprised about any of it, but he was certainly angry. Especially as he went to Todd’s place to try to talk some sense into the ass.

“Christ,” Todd said when Sawyer got out of his SUV. “What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

Todd laughed. “Seriously, man? I have nothing to say to you.”

“I can get you a deal if you help us out.”

“You want me to give you a name,” Todd said.

“Yes.”

“Not going to happen.” Todd got into his truck.

Sawyer let out a breath. He wanted to say f**k it, but he couldn’t just walk away. He had no idea why. “It’s not too late. If that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not.”

Todd’s smirk faded, but his eyes stayed hard. “Yeah, it is.”

Sawyer watched him drive off, torn between the feeling of fury and failure. He knew Todd, whether Todd wanted to admit it or not. Todd was stupid enough to try to warn his supplier.

Sawyer would hopefully be smart enough to catch him at it. Sawyer shook his head and turned back to his vehicle. It was done, then. Todd had had as many opportunities as Sawyer to turn his life around, and at every single turn, he’d chosen to f**k himself over. Not happy, Sawyer called the DEA and gave the information to his contact, Agent Reed Morris, detailing everything that Mitch had provided and what Sawyer knew about Todd.

All they needed now was for Todd to lead them right to his next big deal.