“Yep. Although my parents didn’t go far. They bought a place on Lake Horton.”
Which wasn’t all that far from his place in Seattle. “Why do you stay? What’s here for you?”
Darcy pushed back from the table and picked up her plate. “Why not?”
He studied her as she came toward him to collect his plate, too. “It doesn’t suit you,” he said. “The town. This house.”
“You don’t know that.”
Standing, he followed her to the sink. “I do.”
“Maybe I’m not as easy to read as you think.”
Jared backed off, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way she avoided his gaze. Coming up behind her, he pushed her ponytail aside and brushed his lips over her nape. He’d get the story out of her eventually. In the meantime, he wanted her soft and warm. He wanted to explore what it was about her that made him want to kiss her all over.
She turned to face him. “Why did you join the Marshals Service?”
He gripped the counter on either side of her, trapping her in the cage of his arms. She smelled sweet and clean, and he was hyperaware of the fact that she was mostly naked beneath the thin wrap of white satin. “Because the military and I were done with each other and there’s nothing else I’m good at.”
“You’re a good cook.”
“Thanks.”
Her hands went to his hips, her fingers twining in his belt loops. “You’re seriously hot. You could be a calendar model. Or a Chippendales dancer.”
“That’s not flattering.”
“You’re outrageously good in bed. Although monetizing that is illegal.”
“I like it on this side of the law,” he murmured, bending his head over her. “And I’m picky about who I go to bed with. I’d starve to death.”
“Well, that’s flattering.”
Darcy was a confident woman; she knew the force of her sex appeal. Since it was highly doubtful she would’ve picked up that level of sensual sophistication around a town of this size, where the dating pool had to be painfully small, he was even more curious about the time she’d spent away from this place. And what had brought her back. Maybe she was licking her wounds after a bad breakup, swearing off men for a while and retreating to a place where she’d be left alone.
He stepped back. “Wanna watch TV?”
Her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. She knew damn well he wanted another go at her, but he was going to hold off. He needed to be more careful or risk her burning out on him. He also needed to get a grip on himself.
“Find something you like,” she urged. “I’ll join you after I load up the dishwasher.”
He went along with the suggestion only because he wanted to get a closer look at her place without making her nervous about it. Moving into the living room, Jared took notice of all the details he’d been too lust addled to appreciate earlier. His gaze went to the now infamous couch first. Its modern lines and extra deep cushions were very much in keeping with how he saw Darcy, as was the sixty-two-inch flat-screen TV hung over the fireplace. Both were out of place against dated wallpapered walls. The coffee and end tables were sturdy wood pieces as retro in style as the dining table, while the knickknacks around the room were contemporary pieces.
Pausing by the fireplace, he looked at the framed photos on the mantel. Some were of Darcy with her parents, some were of her sister. He could tell the two apart easily, a difference confirmed by pictures of the two sisters together. The set of Darcy’s shoulders and the cant of her chin were unique to her, displaying a self-possession and boldness that wasn’t as evident in her sister’s shy smile.
He turned away from the fireplace as she entered the room, his gaze hungry as it swept over her slender frame. He should be wrung out by the two explosive orgasms she’d already given him, and there was no denying she was sore. But that didn’t stop her from looking at him like she wanted to ride him ’til morning or him from seriously weighing the pros and cons of letting her. He’d experienced potent sexual attraction before, but this was inexorable. Feeling his cock stir, he shucked his jeans but left his boxer briefs on.
“Don’t get excited,” he warned, when she caught her breath, “I’m just getting comfortable.”
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she gave him a deliberately provocative look. She ran a finger down her throat to her cleavage.
“Keep it up,” he drawled, grabbing the remote before dropping into the corner of the couch where he’d had her pinned just hours before. He spread his legs and patted the spot between them. “Now be a good girl and lay here against me.”
She came to him with a wry smile. “You don’t strike me as the type of man who likes good girls.”
“I like you.” He wrapped an arm around her as she settled her back against his chest. “And I don’t expect you to behave.”
“You know me so well,” she teased, raking her short nails across his thighs.