Lauren Dane - Whiskey Sharp - Jagged

He stabbed a finger in the air before he put his tea aside and began to work. “I don’t like those people. How they upset their daughters!”

What’d been revealed during that terrible scene was very private. But he knew Maybe would be all right with him talking to his family about it. He told his father about how Rachel and Maybe’s dad blamed their youngest daughter for being repeatedly sexually propositioned and stalked by one of his coworkers. Told him about how devastated Rachel had been that her sister had been so abused and hurt. The guilt he knew she would never let go because she hadn’t protected Maybe.

His father cursed a long stream in Russian. Not loud. No, when Pavel Orlov got pissed, he got quiet. He bellowed when he was happy instead.

Vic merely nodded at his father before continuing. “They want to control Rachel. Take away something she needs to make her dependent on them. If they succeed in taking her freedom, we’ll fight for her. She can’t be caged.” She’d been at the mercy of someone else when she’d been kidnapped and Vic knew she’d break if it happened again.

“You make sure she gets the papers to protect herself,” his dad told him.

“She’s supposed to call Seth to get his advice.” Seth was his cousin Cristian’s fiancé. He was a cop with the Seattle Police Department so he had good information and given the way Seth was, he’d walk her through the process. “I’m making her brunch later on today so I’ll make sure she does it then.”

“You be careful too. The father is dangerous. It would be good if they leave Maybe alone now. It’s Rachel they want. But if they can’t get it...”

Richie Dolan had a temper. One laced with threat and menace and Vic didn’t like it at all. He was the type of man who probably bumped shoulders with other men to assert some sort of dominance.

Vic didn’t underestimate that threat. But he damned sure bet Dolan underestimated his children and their resilience.

“I am. I promise,” Vic assured his dad.

CHAPTER TWO

RACHEL STOOD IN her closet, looking at her clothes. Annoyance warred with delight. It’d been a while since she’d dressed up for a man for more than just a few weeks of sex and then moving on. That was easy. A mask, a costume that spelled out the limits and boundaries of the interaction.

Sexy in a generic sense.

But Vic wasn’t some dude she’d bounced on a while. He was someone she knew and liked. Someone who came over to her house on a regular basis. A guy who’d seen some of her most private stuff aired out.

God. She shouldn’t do anything with him. Just stay friends. If they started something and it went bad it would be awkward. And she really liked the Orlovs and his cousin was living in her house, sullying up her sister. Gah!

So much energy buzzed just under her skin. Had been since she’d gotten out of bed and tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that he was coming over and making her food and giving her a ride and being all helpful and nurturing and it was really insanely hot and comforting and he was sexy. So sexy and he wanted her. Her!

“Going off the rails here,” she murmured to herself.

Of course she was naturally going to try to talk herself out of getting into anything romantic with him. It was dumb and risky, just as she’d reminded herself.

And of course she was going to do it anyway.

He made her dizzy and sort of sappy and dumb and really horny. She wanted to see what it would be like. To have something with him, to give the zing a chance. She wanted to let herself feel all this really good stuff.

* * *

BY THE TIME he showed up at her door she’d managed to get the eyeliner on both sides into pretty respectable wings and given the goofy look on his face when he checked out her tits, the choice of the snug T-shirt she’d worn over a long-sleeved Henley was a good one.

“Hi.” He smiled at her, all gorgeous teeth framed by his beard. Sometimes she let her cheek brush it when he hugged her. And she wondered what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of her neck. Or the inside of her thighs.

Holding up an armful of packages, he thrust a huge bouquet of flowers at her. “I bring food and flowers in tribute.”

Rachel took them, pausing to breathe in the scent of the pink-tipped cream-toned roses he’d given her.

“Good morning.” She stepped back to let him come inside, taking a surreptitious sniff of him as he passed.

Yum.

She led him into the kitchen, where he began to unpack the haul he’d brought. Trying not to show how giddy she was that he’d brought her such pretty flowers, she made busy with trimming the stems and arranging them in a vase she placed in the center of the kitchen table.

“Thank you for the roses,” she said, shyness in her belly.

He turned, approaching her slowly until he’d backed her to the counter, his body shy of touching hers. “You deserve roses.”

The shyness in her belly turned to butterflies.

“I do?”

He nodded and then, shocked her into total stillness as he dipped and slid his lips over hers. Tasting. Sipping.

He backed up just a little before he got close again, this time sliding his tongue against her lips and into her mouth when she opened on a sigh of pleasure. The heat of him blanketed her, along with his scent, and she had to exercise all her self-control not to rub against him.

One last kiss, this one with a nip of her bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting a long time,” he murmured, gaze searching hers. Looking for fear? Hesitation?

She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly, one last time, chasing that query from his eyes.

“I hope it was worth the wait,” she said, trying to sound saucy.

He smirked. “It was.”

She smiled. “Good. I concur. On the being worth the wait, that is. Coffee?”

“Yes, that’d be great. Omelets okay?” he asked.

Nodding, she poured them both a large mug, leaving his near where he’d begun to assemble the ingredients for their meal.

“You know where the milk and sugar are if you want some.” She indicated the sugar bowl.

“My mother says I’m sweet enough on my own,” he told her.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes and went back to looking at him, enjoying the tingling left after that kiss.

“You do pretty well in that department, I must admit.”

Visibly pleased, he shrugged, not at all bashfully. He was just so damned self-assured. Easy with himself as he moved around her kitchen.

“I’ve decided we should go on a date. First dates can be weird, even when you already know the person. So I propose this to be our first date so when I take you out, it can be the second date and we don’t need to be nervous. Naturally there’ll be flowers because, as I mentioned, you deserve them.” He nodded as he began to assemble things in a fashion her love of order found very sexy. He poked around in the cabinets until he found what he needed and got about his business.

She sat back in her chair, utterly charmed. Damn it, why did he have to be so sexy and funny? So emotionally well adjusted and stuff? The whole of him was utterly irresistible.

It’d been hard enough when he was aiming all that charm at others. But over the last several months he’d turned it on her . Making it clear what his intentions were. Even as he never pressed for more than she was comfortable with she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them.

He’d pushed his sleeves up, exposing ridiculously sexy forearms, and then washed and dried his hands. He stood, giving her his profile, his features exposed because his hair—acres of thick, gorgeous hair, nearly shaved at the sides but long on top—was captured in a ponytail at the back of his head. He usually wore it that way when he worked.