I cough, clear my throat, and say, “Tell me about your family.”
Jerico’s eyes get a tinge of sadness as he says, “My parents are dead. My dad in a motorcycle accident, my mom from cancer. Didn’t have any siblings. Have a few aunts, uncles, and cousins back East where I’m from, but that’s about it.”
“Back East?” I ask.
My hands go to his chest. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
He’s eyes get even sadder, but his smile is very fond. “They were good people.”
That’s all he has to say for me to know… he’s a family man. He may not have them now, but what he had was good, and I think it was passed to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have just handed over that type of money to me with such a ridiculously easy repayment. Let’s face it… he is practically giving me that money.
I want to know more about his family, but I also want to lighten the mood.
So I switch curiosities. “Tell me about The Jameson Group. What exactly is it?”
“I could tell you,” he says seriously. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Try again.”
He chuckles and damn… the green in his eyes is mesmerizing when he laughs. His irises lighten and the tiny striations of rust turn golden.
When he stops laughing, he tells me, “I was in the Marine Corps… MARSOC, which is special forces. Did that for four years and liked the excitement and adventure of it, but didn’t like the lack of control or the low pay. I decided to start a company that provides a lot of those same services and charge for it.”
“What are the services?” I ask him, sliding my hands down to rest on his abs.
He gives a slight shrug. “Could be recovery of a kidnap victim or just gathering intelligence inside an enemy nation. Sometimes we’re hired for protection services for dignitaries.”
“And who would hire you to do that?” This is fascinating stuff.
“Sometimes private citizens,” he explains. “Once we were hired by an Arab oilman whose daughter had been kidnapped for ransom. We were hired to get her back. But mostly, it’s our government or one of our allies’ governments that hire special-ops contractors.”
“It sounds very James Bondish,” I say with a laugh.
“It’s not quite that exciting, particularly gathering intelligence,” he quips dryly. “Try freezing your ass off for weeks while sitting in the frigid mountains of Afghanistan and doing nothing but looking through binoculars at a village and making diary entries of movement.”
That doesn’t sound exciting at all. “But still… you’re hot like James Bond,” I point out.
Jerico gives me a huge and unfettered grin. Before I know it, his hands are at my ass and he’s pulling me up his chest.
“Hey,” I complain as I push back. “You said I had ten minutes.”
“I’m calling a time out,” he says gruffly, his eyes going to the juncture of my legs. “I’m hungry.”
Well, who am I to argue with that?
Jerico pulls me up his body, but I slam my hands down one more time to halt my progress. He looks at me with a mixture of amusement and irritation, but he waits for me to say whatever it is I want to say.
“You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be,” I murmur, tracing my finger down the middle of his chest. “Jayce told me to be careful with you.”
Jerico’s eyes harden slightly and his mouth parts as if he wants to prove he’s scary or ask why Jayce would be wary of him, but instead he whispers, “Touch yourself.”
His eyes fall to where my finger sits in the middle of his chest. Since he’s pulled me up his body a bit, it’s resting not very far from the opening of my pussy. Warmth flushes my body and a sensual ache forms low in my belly before making my sex start to convulse. I slowly drag my finger across his skin, until it touches my warm, wet folds. I push just the fingertip inside and then bring it out to circle the wetness around my clit. A tiny moan pops out of me as my eyes flutter closed.
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” Jerico says in a gravelly voice filled with lust. “Let me taste.”
My eyes open slowly and a lazy smile spreads over my face. I pull my finger away and reach out, lightly rubbing it over his bottom lip. His tongue comes out and swipes at it, and that right there… that’s fucking sexy.
“Playtime’s over,” Jerico growls. His hands on my ass pull me all the way up until I’m straddling his face. I hear him mumble, “It’s dinnertime,” before his mouth is on me and he’s rocking my world once again.
For the third time this evening, I leave my office and take a walk around The Wicked Horse. I hit up every room as well as The Deck. The only place I don’t go is The Social Room because Trista’s in there working the hostess podium. While I’d once told her I liked her working the condiment tray because she was almost naked and it was a treat for my eyes, I didn’t like how it was a treat for others.