She touched her fingers briefly to his glistening mouth before moving her stiletto-ed foot back to the ground.
Ava dropped to her knees, making room for herself between his legs as she inched forward.
Her fingers made quick work of the buttons of his jeans.
“Sims, you don’t have—”
He broke off as her quick maneuvering of his boxers freed his erection. Her hand fisted over him, and he swore.
She meant to tease him like he’d teased her, but then she remembered his expression when she’d first come in the door.
This was a man who wanted to get lost.
Needed it.
So without preamble or teasing, she leaned forward, taking him in her mouth.
Luc gasped, his hands pulling her long hair back so that he could watch her mouth on him. Ava let his responses guide her, looking to make it last for him. She slowed down when his fingers tightened, teased when his breathing grew faster.
When she lifted her eyes to his, watched him watching her as she gave him head, he whispered her name in reverent want.
When he was close to the brink, he pulled her hair firmly back, and she let him. He scooped her up onto the bed with him, pushing her flat on her back as he shoved his jeans and boxers down to mid-thigh.
They couldn’t wait. Not to remove his pants, not to discard her panties.
He pulled the black triangle of her thong aside once more, but this time it was to make room for his cock, still damp from her mouth.
This first thrust was hard, and she gasped. The second was harder, and she moved her hands above her head to hang on to the headboard.
“Fuck, Sims.”
Fuck
was exactly what they did, his body pounding hers in rough, deliberate strokes. The fabric of his jeans chafed at the inside of her thighs, the buttons of his shirt rasping against her bare stomach, but it was perfect.
All of it was wanton and perfect and apparently exactly what she needed because she was on the brink again before she could even register the impending orgasm.
“Condom?” she gasped, digging her nails into his back.
He paused, swearing before he rolled them to the side to dig through his nightstand drawer.
Luc withdrew just long enough to roll the condom on, and then he was inside her again, his hands splaying her thighs wide as he watched his cock move in and out.
“Sims.”
She lifted her hips for him before reaching down to touch herself, and he groaned. Ava had always thought of simultaneous orgasms as an overrated unicorn of sorts, best in theory, if they even existed, but she was dead wrong.
Because when the first shudder racked her body, he was right there with her, bucking against her even as she clenched around him.
Somehow it went on forever and not nearly long enough, but when Luc collapsed on top of her, Ava knew only one thing:
She was exactly where she was supposed to be.
A
va didn’t push him to talk about it. Luc liked that about her.
Hell, Luc liked a lot of things about her. Maybe too many.
He lost count of how long he lay collapsed on top of her like a post-rut frat boy, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to move after the orgasm to top all orgasms.
Sexual distraction was exactly what he’d been looking for when he’d booty-called her over there, but what he got was in a whole other universe.
When he did finally move, it was only to roll to the side, one arm still draped heavily against her waist.
She wiggled slightly into a more comfortable position before lightly running her nails over his forearm.
It was then that he braced for the inevitable questions. He’d seen on her face that she’d known something was wrong when he’d opened the door to her, and Luc figured at some point he’d have to answer for the fact that he’d just used her to forget his problems.
Just one problem, actually. A big one.
Like the fact that his father had paid off the media to not make a scandal out of the Shayna Johnson case.
His arm tightened against her stomach, but she didn’t stop the soothing motion of her fingers.
Incredibly, he wanted to talk to her about it. Not for advice, or sympathy, or absolution. But just to let someone in.
To let Ava in.
But he couldn’t.
Because at the end of the day, Ava Sims was a reporter.
Even worse, she was a reporter focused on him.
The irony didn’t escape Luc. No wonder his dad and brothers had flipped their shit when they’d learned that he’d found himself in Ava’s bed. His father had risked his own career to protect Luc from the very type of person who was currently cuddled against his side in outrageously sexy lingerie.
It also explained why they’d all been on suspiciously good behavior as they’d welcomed Ava into their little family fold.
The more information the Morettis spoon-fed her, the less she’d have to go digging.
And it was very, very important that Ava didn’t go digging.
It was bad enough that Lopez had let it slip about Mike being Luc’s former partner.
About Mike dying.
About Shayna dying…
He buried his face in her shoulder, and her fingers paused briefly before slowly moving upward so that her palm cupped his cheek.
He kissed it, and she gave a little sigh of contentment.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hot, raunchy sex was supposed to be followed up with a shower and a beer and a good-bye.
Not cuddling and soft kisses and the urge to share his deepest, darkest secrets.
She turned her head slightly toward his. “Um, Luc. I have to pee.”
Sims.
Her unembarrassed announcement was his out, but damned if it didn’t make him feel oddly tender. He smiled against her hair, lifting his arm just enough so she could wiggle out from beneath it.
His cock was totally spent, but that didn’t stop him from watching her taut, tiny ass exit his bedroom.
He’d had plenty of gorgeous women, but none did it for him quite like Ava.
And not just physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
No.
He pushed the thought aside. She was not for him.
He
was not for anyone.
Luc swore softly, punching a pillow out of frustration for thoughts he couldn’t yet sort out. He was tugging his jeans back up and buttoning them as Ava came back in.
Gone were the thigh-highs and garter belt. Back were the short shorts and blue top. The high heels were still on too, which was admittedly sexy as hell, and already his cock twitched at the memory of her standing in stilettos as he ate her out…
But Ava hated stilettos.
She only wore them for show.
And walking.
And since the show was over…
“You’re leaving?” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
Her brows snapped together in surprise. “Well, yeah? I thought…?”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. “You thought what? That I called you over here for a blow job and Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and then wanted you to walk-of-shame yourself home at six p.m. on a Sunday?”
Her confusion turned to irritation. “Hey, quit making it seem like I’m the tawdry one here. We’ve both agreed we’re not looking for a relationship. We both know that the sex is awesome. But you have to spend enough time with me at work, I don’t expect—”
“You hungry?” he asked, pushing past her toward the kitchen.
She followed him, and he expected some snappy comeback, but she remained silent.
Silent and Ava. Not a common combo. Probably not a good one either.
Their eyes locked and held, and she studied him as though looking for something. He didn’t know what the fuck it was, but apparently she found it.
She lowered primly to a bar stool. “I could eat.”
She was staying.
The relief that went through him was as potent as it was alarming, and Luc inhaled a deep breath. He started to open the fridge, but there was something he needed to do first. Something he needed to say.
He advanced on her, noting the way her brown eyes went both wary and aroused as he neared. He nearly smiled. Good to know that strange push-pull effect was mutual.
Luc moved around her, pivoting the spinning seat of the bar stool so she was facing him. He started to put both hands on the counter to pin her against him, but at the last second his hands seemed to have other ideas and he gently cupped her face.
“Sims.”
“Moretti.”
He smiled at her tart response. Damn, he liked her.
“I like you.”
Her eyes went a little wide. “I like you—”
“Uh uh, let me finish.” His thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. “And I like your body a
hell
of a lot, but when I asked you to come over…it wasn’t about that.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He laughed. “Okay it wasn’t
just
about that. Just because I’m not looking for the whole long-term, love and marriage thing doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the company of a female. A particular female,” he added.
“So you’re using me for sex and companionship,” she said, her voice wonderfully free of feminine outrage.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Depends.” Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, her eyes affectionate. “Do I get to use
you
for sex and companionship?”
He leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “I sure as fuck hope so.”
“Then it’s a deal,” she said, pushing him backward playfully.
“You should also use me for my cooking skills,” Luc said, resuming his quest to make them something to eat.
“That whole Italian thing rubbed off on you, huh?”
“It did. As long as you like pasta.”
“I do.”
He held up two boxes. “Linguini or rigatoni?”
“Surprise me,” she said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands.
He set the linguine back on the shelf, then set the rigatoni next to the stove. Without missing a beat, he pulled a recently opened bottle of Chianti off the counter and poured them each a glass.
Ava lifted her glass to his. “To using each other.”
Luc grinned. Yes. He liked this one. He clinked his glass lightly against hers. “To using each other.”
Their eyes locked as they took a sip, and a tiny sliver of unease ran along his spine as he acknowledged the one not so minor detail that neither would address.
Using each other…
For how long?
A
vie, baby. What the hell, where you been?”
Ava sighed around the straw of her iced coffee. She’d been unusually lucky these past couple weeks; her times at the studio had conveniently not overlapped with Davis’s time in the office.
It would seem her luck was out.
She plastered a smile on her face, spinning around in her chair to face him. Unnecessary. He was already in his usual position on her desk, crowding her space with chunky thighs and a leering grin.
“I’ve been working,” she said, carefully keeping the edge out of her voice. Davis had this annoying way of thinking that his female reporters should be both drumming up prime stories while simultaneously being in the studio where he could see—ogle—them. Not so much with the male reporters who had all sorts of leeway in their schedules.
“So tell me about the cop thing,” he said, picking up her drink and taking a long slurp.
There went $4.72 down the drain. No way was she touching it now.
“It’s going well. I have all the footage for the first and second hours. Lots of interviews with the NYPD, more than enough for my day-in-the-life section, following around Luc and Sawyer.”
Davis’s bushy eyebrows crept up, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Mihail’s head pop above the cube wall, gummy worm hanging from his mouth as he blatantly eavesdropped.
“
Luc
and
Sawyer
?” her boss asked.
“Officers Moretti and Lopez,” she clarified irritably.
“You’re on a first-name basis, huh?”
“Well yeah, that happens when you spend nearly every day together for a month,” Ava snapped.
It also happens when you spend every night in one of their beds for the past week
, but she didn’t go there. Obviously.
Mihail wiggled his eyebrows at her, but she ignored him. The Monday morning after her and Luc’s Weekend of Amazing Sex, it had taken Mihail all of two minutes to figure out what had happened. He’d claimed that they’d steamed up the lens of his camera every time they made eye contact.
It had taken Sawyer only a bit longer; he’d made it to lunch before asking when they’d decided to “do it.”
Their friends knowing was one thing…Ava’s boss finding out that she’d blurred the lines?
No.
She kept her face carefully blank as she not-so-subtly checked her watch.
Davis either missed or ignored the gesture. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled back on her desk, getting comfortable. “So what are you thinking for the last hour? That’s the denouement, Avie; it’s gotta be great if you want to convince everyone you’re anchor-ready. We need something that will have the housewives swooning and young’uns dashing off to be a cop, and the men puffing up their chests and saying
that’s what it means to be a man in this country
.”
“Absolutely, that’s exactly the response we’re going to get,” Ava said with confidence she didn’t feel.
Because the truth was, Ava wasn’t at all sure she could tell the story of Luc Moretti without also telling the story of what had happened to his partner. Mike Jensen had died on duty while on the scene of a kidnapping gone wrong.
And Luc had been there.
But that wasn’t where the story was. A cop had died, and that was awful. Shayna Johnson died, and that was awful.
But the really awful part was that neither of those had made even the tiniest blip in the news circuit. At first Ava thought maybe there had been another story that might have overshadowed it. A natural disaster or political scandal that had allowed for two deaths to go nearly unnoticed.
Her search had come up empty. November two years ago had been a slow news month. And the week of Shayna Johnson’s death? The top local story had been a
flower
show.
No, the story here wasn’t that two people had died violent deaths. The story was that there
was no story
.
And Ava would bet her right eye this was no fluke. She bet this had to do with Luc’s father, and whatever they’d fought about the other day when Luc had been so upset.
There had to be some perks to having a police commissioner father. Say, like his dad deflecting attention away from a messy situation. This was a cover-up, good and simple.
And a police cover-up made for a damn good story. Just not
this
story.
Professional Ava knew exactly what she should do. Blow this thing wide open. Find out exactly what happened that day, and find out exactly why it was all hush-hush.
But on a personal level? Ava wasn’t sure she wanted to go there. At all.
And would there be harm in letting it be? Really? Her TV special would and could be a success without it. The camera would love Luc, and Sawyer’s charm was a welcome boon. Their casual banter, Hollywood smiles, and all-American approachability made them easy to watch.
The feel-good aspect the network was after was there. It was a soft, fuzzy masterpiece.
It just wasn’t the full story.
It wasn’t the truth. Or at least not the whole truth.
“Avie?” Davis prodded. “The last hour? What do you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking it would be a good time to interview Luc,” she said, grasping at straws. “You know, a really in-depth look at America’s Hero.”
“’Kay.” Davis drummed his fingers. “That works if he’s got the charisma.”
“He does,” she said emphatically. “He couldn’t be more perfect if we’d hired an actor to play the good ol’ boy cop.”
“Does he have a girlfriend we can play up?”
“What?” Ava asked, her voice all but a squeak. She heard Mihail snicker.
“You know…a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, I guess we could work with that. An engagement caught on screen would send our ratings through the roof.”
Ava blinked at Davis. “What is this, a tabloid talk show? You want me to bring his illegitimate children out of the audience too?”
Her boss’s eyes lit up. “Does he have them?”
“No, jeez! He’s a good guy!”
“So? Good guys have nice girlfriends whom they propose to on TV. Tell him we’ll buy the ring.”
“Gross, Davis,” Ava said in disgust. “And he’s not even dating anyone.”
“Huh. Why not? He’s a good-looking dude with a million fans. Should we set him up with someone?”
The thought of Luc’s being set up with some young, cute groupie made Ava slightly nauseated. Although it was a hell of a lot better than the thought of him proposing.
That
thought made her downright stabby.
Not that she had to worry about the last one. Luc was solidly anti-marriage. Just like she was. So there would be no presenting of rings, on camera, or off.
Ava let that thought sink in for a second and was annoyed to realize that she felt a sting of disappointment.
“Well whatever. I trust your judgment,” Davis said. “Just make sure you get us all the happy feels. The one that has the housewives sending letters of adoration.”
Ava nodded, feeling increasingly ambivalent about the plastic, posed story she was going to present the more Davis talked. Not that Luc was plastic or poised, but now that she knew he had a complicated past, it felt wrong to not even mention it.
But she couldn’t do that to Luc.
Not to mention, it would be torpedoing her career.
“Oh, before I forget,” Davis said, taking another sip of her drink. Ugh. Backwash city. “I wanted you to hear it from me…rumor from upstairs is that Holly Granger is interested.”
“Interested?” Ava asked, pulling her thoughts away from Luc. Holly Granger was the prime-time superstar over at BNC; what did she have to do with anything?
He leaned down as though he had a secret to share, even though there was no such thing as secrets in the news media. “You know all that chemistry she has with Bill?”
“Yeah?” Bill Terry was Holly’s co-anchor; their chemistry was legendary. It was hard to imagine one without the other.
“Apparently they decided to mix some on-screen chemistry with off-screen biology,” he said with a gross little wink.
Ava frowned. “They’re both married. Bill has, like, five kids.”
Davis lifted a shoulder. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Ava held up a hand. “Okay, who cares? What does their affair have to do with me?”
“Keep up, Avie. Things have gone sour. Or something. She’s been talking about taking Gwen’s place.”
No.
No.
That was
her
spot. But if Holly Granger was interested, Ava was screwed.
Unless…
Mihail shook his head more emphatically this time.
Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe she
did
want to make a name for herself. She couldn’t measure up to someone of Holly’s experience and polish, but she could deliver a kick-ass story that would get her noticed by other networks.
Say, a story about a cop whose partner had been killed arriving on the scene of a botched kidnapping…
“Hey, Davis,” Ava called after her boss, who was already strutting away.
He turned.
“Do you think you could spare a fact-checker or two? I’ve got a couple things I want to double-check on. Just to be sure.”
“Oh, Ava,” Mihail said quietly. “Don’t.”
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see his disappointed face. It’s not like she was actually going to act on anything.
But she knew there was something strange about that Shayna Johnson case. And there was a story yet to be told with Mike Jensen too.
And Ava would bet serious money that the occasional shadows that crossed Luc’s face had to do with his deceased partner.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mihail grumbled as she pulled her keyboard toward her.
Ava pretended not to hear him as she brought up Google and typed
Mike Jensen New York Police Widow.