He dropped his hand and met her eyes. “When you were gone for three months, I was… I felt…”
Vin blew out a breath, then tried again. “That day you got back from your mom’s, I was going to ask you out. On a date.”
Her jaw dropped, and he rolled over so they were face-to-face. “I swear to God, Henley, my wanting you has nothing to do with you getting engaged to Tom. It took me a while, yes. It took me far too damn long to realize that I wanted to be more than your partner, but I did realize it.”
She reached out and lightly touched the back of his hand. “And then I came back… engaged.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“What about now?” she asked softly. “Do you still want to ask me on a date?”
“I do, but—”
Her heart dropped.
“I’m not a hearts-and-flowers kind of guy. I don’t… I don’t know that I can be what you need. Or want.”
“Well what can you be?” She forced her voice to stay light. To keep from pushing him too hard in a direction she wasn’t sure either of them wanted or knew how to handle.
His gaze turned warm as his hand moved forward, settling on her bare waist. “Well, for starters, I can be your partner.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked as his hand moved down slightly, resting on the curve of her hip before moving back up again. “Is that all?”
He moved closer, his mouth settling into the hollow of her throat, and she sighed. “I can also be a decent friend—beat up your fiancé when he goes to dinner with other women, things like that?”
His lips moved over her neck and she arched toward him even as she let out a little laugh. “I guess I could use a friend.”
“What about a lover?”
“Nah,” she said flippantly. “I’m good.”
Vincent’s hand moved up, covering her breast. His thumb drifted over a nipple and she moaned.
“You’re sure?”
“Mmm hmm,” she managed.
Vincent moved down her body until his mouth was even with her chest, his thumb continuing to toy with her before he let his hand fall away, so she felt only his warm breath.
“I guess you don’t want my mouth here then,” he said, moving imperceptibly closer.
Jill arched toward him, but he moved back, just out of reach. “What’s this? Changing your mind?”
“Vin,” she whined.
He looked up at her, his eyes hungry. “Thought you didn’t want a lover.”
“I lied,” she whispered as her back arched again so that her nipple brushed his lips. He rewarded her with a soft lick before he pulled back again.
“See, I don’t know that I can work with a liar, Henley. Seems to me—”
Jill shoved him onto his back, rolling on top of him. She maneuvered his big arms to his side, her hands pinning him to the bed and he let her, just for a moment, his eyes gleaming mischievously up at her.
“Ah, so you did change your mind.”
Jill didn’t bother responding. She was too busy moving her lips over his shoulder. His pecs. Her teeth grazed his nipple and he hissed.
“What about you,” she said, her mouth moving slowly down his torso. “Do you want a lover?”
Her hand closed around his cock as he groaned. “Ah—”
“What was that?” she asked innocently, stroking him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes what?” she moved farther down, her lips brushing against the tip of him, relishing his guttural groan.
“Yes,” he said, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Yes, I definitely need a lover.”
She couldn’t resist the small smile of victory before her lips closed around him.
Lover was good enough.
For now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It was typical that the moment one thing went right in Vincent Moretti’s life, another would go horribly wrong.
“I can’t believe they’re closing the case,” Jill said for the hundredth time around a bite of her turkey sandwich. “We were so close!”
He gave her a look as he took a drink of Coke.
“Okay, so we weren’t close,” she said, mouth mostly full. “But we were getting there. We always get there.”
He dragged his fry through ketchup, barely registering that the fry was cold and that he didn’t even like ketchup.
Vin threw the fry back on the plate and took a deep breath. He was trying not to be pissed. He really was.
But it was the first case that his superiors had ever pulled him from.
And the worst part was, he didn’t even blame them.
Not only had they not solved the case—they hadn’t gotten fucking close. If you held a gun to Vin’s head and told him to name the killer—he couldn’t.
He didn’t have a fucking clue who’d killed Lenora Birch, and the lack of control made him irritable. Itchy.
Pissed.
Jill took a sip of her iced tea, only to pull it back when she realized her glass was empty. She looked around for a server, then sighed. “I miss when Maggie used to work here.”
“You’re just saying that because of the free pie,” he said.
She had a point though.