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“If he’s like your dad, then he must be amazing,” Lily says. “All right, honey, you go have some time with your man, while I go talk with mine. Love you forever.”
“To the moon and beyond,” Jasmine replies and disconnects the call.
* * *
Jasmine
I’m making Dad lie to Mom. He hates keeping anything from her. That’s not how they work. My parents have always said that they share the good and the bad. Mom says the bad doesn’t sting quite as much when you’ve got someone to share the burden.
Part of the reason why they retired early and went to a nice warm place to settle is because of Mom. We were lucky that her doctor prides himself on being thorough and, during her yearly checkup, thought he heard a heart murmur. He was right, and although it’s nothing serious now, it could develop. That’s when Dad decided they were going to retire.
My father would do anything for us. His greatest agony was leaving me here when he and Mom were moving. It’s not that he doesn’t trust me or have faith in my ability; it’s because we’ve always been a team. “Since the day you came into our lives, your father said where we go, you go,” Mom told me a thousand times. My girls, he calls us.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Zeke glides his fingers through my hair.
“They shouldn’t have to deal with this. My parents are the sweetest people you’ll ever know. This isn’t good for Mom, and I’ve turned Dad into a liar. I hate this,” I say. I know I sound childish, but still, I feel like screaming into a pillow.
“It strikes me that your father is no one’s puppet, babe. He’s going to do what’s best for her and for you. He’s already sent his number, and I’ll be keeping him in the loop. As for your mom, I’ll bet you she’s far more resilient than you’re giving her credit for. Your dad will know how to handle the situation. They’ve been together, what, thirty years?” He’s right. Dad always knows exactly what to say to talk Mom off the ledge.
“It’s not just my parents. It’s this whole mess. If this is about the money, they can keep it. I don’t care. I’ll sign it over to whoever the hell is causing this, and it can be over. Unfortunately, they think killing me is a better option.” I stand and begin pacing the room, going over our conversation with Nick Davis. “Do you think Gregory Madden’s wife or daughter have anything to do with this? Is that why they’re contesting the will, to buy time?”
“It’s probable motive. Historically, money and jealousy are the primary reasons behind murders and deception,” Zeke confirms.
“Let’s go talk to them. Tell them they can have it all and this could be over.”
“I wish it were that easy. It’s killing me to see you like this. I would be hauling Christie and Paris in tonight and interrogating them, but Caleb’s right. All we have is a theory and nothing substantial. They’re trying to overturn the will legally, and there’s nothing linking them to Brian Candor. We need more. When we look at the paperwork your parents have, we may find something then. Damian is going to question the wife and daughter. Alex is heading back to the bar to see what else he can find, and Caleb’s looking deeper into the deaths of Constance and Gregory.” As always, Zeke lays it out. He’s gentle but honest. “We can’t do anything more tonight. Try to relax.” He gathers me into his arms and holds me close.
“Maybe a shot of tequila will help,” I quip with a snort.
“Hold that thought.” He gets up and goes to the antique cabinet he has in the corner, where he grabs two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. He sets them down in front of me, pops the top of the bottle, and pours, filling the two shot glasses. He sits back down, taking one and handing me the other. “Suck it back, babe,” he says with a sly grin.
The pure clear liquid, burns, but goes down smooth, warming my belly. “I think I need another.” I giggle.
“Careful, babe, you’ll end up with a hangover.”
“Just one more.” I pout, and he pours another. That one goes down even better. “For the rest of the night, I don’t want to think of any bad stuff.”
“What do you want to think about?” he teases. His eyes are amazing. I run my fingers over his temple and down his cheek.
“You.” I sigh. “I like the way you kiss me.” I trace his lips. “I love the way your arms feel when they’re holding me.” Zeke immediately takes me in his arms. “I love the way you make love to me,” I whisper, my lips against his.
Without further prompting, he kisses me. It’s the sweetest of kisses, long and languid, deep, and soulful. It’s a kiss I never want to end. He tastes like tequila and spice. I can’t get enough. I hold on tighter. When we finally break apart, it’s only to have Zeke tug me to my feet and drag me along behind him all the way to the bedroom.
He moves me to face him and, with a tug, removes my top. “Naked. Now.” He’s gruff and growling. I almost orgasm at the sound of his voice, a shiver running through me. I tug off my pants, but before I can remove my bra, Zeke’s snapped it off. He pushes me back on the bed, his hands at my waist, sliding my panties down my thighs and off.
While trying to catch my breath, I take in the expanse of his chest, smooth with a faint line of hair traveling down the center that only accentuates his masculinity. He prowls toward me on his hands and knees like a lion stalking his prey. I’m the gazelle that wants to be caught, consumed by the passion that sizzles between us. He looms over me, his chest grazing the tips of my nipples. An electrifying jolt runs through me. With the lightest of touches, I ignite for him.
“I don’t think I can go slow.”
“Don’t,” I say. “I want you. I need you. I want to feel you inside me.” I’ve never felt so alive and so wanton, but my desire for him is so strong. And to show him, I let my hand glide between us until I’m fisting his cock and pumping, gently at first.
“Fuck me!” He expels a breath, and his head tilts back, the smooth column of his neck exposed. I can’t help myself; I touch my lips to his soft skin, feeling the heat radiating from his body, and continue my ministrations. “Stop, or this will be over before it starts,” he growls, then removes my hand from his cock, moving it above my head. He takes the other and does the same. With both my hands in his one large one, he spreads my legs with his own. His fingers glide through my wetness. “Thank fuck, you’re ready for me,” he murmurs.
With one hard thrust, he comes inside me, taking my breath away. I moan my pleasure. “Yes, Zeke. Yes.”
“You like that, baby.” He nips at my ear. “I want to hear you say it,” he orders. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.”
If he stops, I’ll die of need. “I like it. I love it.” My voice is staggered and breathy. “More. Give me more,” I beg.
