J Duncan - Deadworld

“I have to agree,” Nick said, setting his wine down on a coaster atop the piano. “You’re all hard lines and sharp edges on the job. I see a different person now.”

Jackie laughed. “Now that I’ve been clubbed in the head and nearly had my knee torn out?”

He gave her a pained smile. “No, not that. Please. Sit down.”

Jackie stared down at the other half of the bench seat, which actually amounted to about a third of the space. She would be right up against him then. The smell of leather would be far stronger. The musk scent of his Mennen Speed Stick would be mere inches away, and those damn eyes would be right there, sneaking sideways glances at her while she played.

“I’d rather just watch you play, if you don’t mind.”

Nick eyed her for a moment. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I said I was fine, damnit, just a little warm, is all.”

“All right then, sit. I insist,” he said, patting the seat.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Insist? You really think you’re in a position to insist on anything from me, Sheriff?”

Nick rolled his eyes at her. “Christ. Sit down and play the piano with me. It’ll relax those frenetic nerves you have going and maybe ease the pain in your heart for just a few minutes.”

Fucker. How am I supposed to say no to that? Jackie found herself sitting down before her mind had finished deliberating the subject. “I don’t play nearly as good as you do.”

“Does it matter?”

“No, I guess not.” She stared at the keys, feeling his gaze on her, the closeness of his body. She could not make herself look at those eyes. “What shall we play?”

“You choose,” he replied. “I’m not particular, and as long as it’s someone known, I’ll pick up on it.”

“You memorize a lot of songs after a hundred years, I suppose.” Jackie laid her hands out over the keys. Duet. Do I even know one? Will my memory even function to make my fingers play it? The warm, syrupy feeling had swelled into her head now, leaving an odd, tangy, metallic taste in the back of her mouth. The wine did nothing to get rid of it. It felt like her head floated just above the rest of her body, barely attached. She wanted Nick’s cool hands on her face, bringing her mind and body back into one piece.

“You pick,” she said, pulling her hands back. “I can’t think of anything.”

“All right. How about this?”

His fingers moved with deft surety, but with a touch light and soft as a feather. Jackie thought she knew the song, but the notes ringing out of the piano filled her head with color, sound, smells, and the bittersweet taste of tears. Abruptly, the sweet melancholy of the song came to an end.

“Jackie?”

She rubbed her clammy hands on her pants. Oh, my God, what was that? “Keep playing. That was so sad and wonderful.”

Nick’s cool fingertips brushed against Jackie’s cheek, and she realized she had begun to cry. Without thinking, Jackie leaned into the touch, and the fingers slid down to cup her chin. He turned her head toward him. “Jackie?”

“What?” Goddamnit, if you don’t kiss me now, I will show you what sharp lines and hard edges are all about.

“Look at me,” he said, voice firm.

Jackie brought her gaze up at last to meet his, locked on like a moth to the flame, charming and deadly both. She could taste his lips against her own, crushing and soft. I wonder if his tongue is as cool as his hands? Could he make me into his slave if he wanted? Unable to resist his every whim? Fuck, Nick! Kiss me or let go before I do something stupid.

“Did Shelby do anything to you? Anything to make you feel better?”

She swore she could feel his pulse through the tips of his fingers, picking up pace against her skin. She nodded. “Said it would have me back on my feet by morning.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Probably said you looked good enough to eat as well.”

You could eat me right now, Sheriff. Just lay me down on this beautiful, polished piano and eat me right up. Jackie nodded slowly, feeling as if too much movement might indeed make her head float away from her body. “She did.” Jackie held up her hands to him, some part of her brain that was normally restrained from active duty brought to the surface on a warm seepage of vampiric goo. “What’s the matter, Nick? My blood not good enough for you?”

He leaned back a few inches. “What? That’s not even an issue here.”

“Shelby wanted it. Why don’t you, Nick?”

“She wasn’t referring to your blood, Jackie. She had, well, other things in mind.”

Jackie wondered if she stood up and sat on the piano keys there before him if he might have a little more compunction to rip her pants off and fuck her brains out. Just a little. I only need a little. Make me feel so much better. Some little part of Jackie’s mind screamed at her, insisting she get the hell out of there, lock herself in a closet until things settled down, but, apparently, the willpower to use it had gone back down to the kitchen for more ice cream.

“Nick,” she said, laying her hand against the rough stubble of his jaw. “I know exactly what she meant, and that’s exactly what I want, what I need right now.”

He reached up and took her hand off his face. “You’re really warm. Shelby did this, damnit. I’m going to kill her.”

Jackie guided his hand down to her breast. “She knows what I need, Nick. Is it really that hard? Am I so undesirable?”

“No, it’s not that, Jackie. This just isn’t the real you here. Shelby did this, filled you with some extra energy to help you heal. It has certain… effects.” He cleared his throat and removed his hand from her breast.

Jackie stood up and stepped over Nick’s legs so that she stood astride him. The keys chimed together in a disharmonious clamor when her butt leaned back into them. “Does it matter?” She laid her hands on his shoulders, squeezing the firm muscle beneath, and found herself strangely and pleasantly oblivious to his fathomless, glowing stare. “I get the impression you don’t sleep around much, Nick. When’s the last time you had a nice, hard fuck?”

“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion, Jackie.”

“And you’d prefer to wait until after you’re dead?” She leaned forward, fingers digging in until her face was only a few inches from his. It really did look like death back in the depths of those eyes. “I don’t want your soul, Mr. Anderson.”

Nick stood up, knocking the piano bench over to the floor with a loud clatter against the wooden floor, his hands hooked under Jackie’s arms. He pushed her back until she was arched against the front of the piano. “You don’t know what you want, Jackie, and I have nothing left to give you.”

She sucked in her breath at the quickness with which he had responded, a tingling wash of heat coursing through her at the feeling of being pressed between him and the piano. It was not exactly comfortable, but Jackie didn’t notice. He stood over her, staring down at her half-opened mouth, holding her gaze, and Jackie knew his words were only that-just words. You say it, and you don’t want to believe, Nick Anderson. You’re just as desperately lonely as I am. “I know what I want at this very moment. Question is, will you give it to me?”

He leaned farther, pressing his torso against hers. Jackie responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and got rewarded with the feeling of him swelling up against her. Nick’s hands gripped the edge of the piano on either side of her, and his mouth hovered perilously and deliciously close to her own. “Jackie…”

God! Do you have to be so fucking chivalrous! Just fuck me! Jackie brought her head up and found his mouth. She could feel every little bump and curve of his lips, nibbling them, licking the crease until after a moment he responded, opening to her and letting her tongue swim with his, tasting of wine, sweet and woody. After a few seconds he pulled away, leaving Jackie licking her lips, wanting to taste more.