Razor's Edge Read Online Free PDF Page B

rippled around him, joining her, jerking violently with every hot thick spurt. His cheek pressed tightly to her temple and the scent of his skin surrounded her, filling her mind along with her name.
    As he emptied himself inside her, it was her name he repeated in a jagged litany, spoken in a serrated voice that pushed her over the razor’s edge of infatuation into something far more dangerous.
    Somehow, she’d managed to get under his skin. She intended to stay there.

six
    Jack tucked one arm behind his head and watched as the ceiling lightened incrementally with the rise of the sun. Rachel lay sleeping on the bed beside him, the white cotton sheet tangled around her torso. Her lips were slightly parted, as if in expectation of a kiss, and he fought the urge to wake her and have her again.
    He wasn’t certain what time she needed to get up to prepare for Riley’s party, but it was barely six, so he figured she could sleep for at least another couple hours yet. She needed it. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her breasts were reddened by the scratch of his whiskers. When she’d been curled on her side, he saw the faint indentation of his teeth in her shoulder.
    Damn it. She was too tender and soft for him to lose control with her—both emotionally and physically. Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. And he’d made a gross tactical miscalculation. In the light of day, he was no longer willing to be a one-night stand.
    She’d been planning on going to bed with him for months . . .
    Fuckin’ A. Just thinking about it tore him up.
    Yes, Rachel deserved better than him, but he could make some adjustments and sacrifices, he could learn what she needed and give his best shot at delivering. He could show her that he could make love to her slowly, sweetly. Take his time. Let her set the pace. He had no option other than to try; he couldn’t pretend last night never happened. Maybe she’d come into it because of Steve, but he could give her a reason to stick with it.
    Too wired to sleep, Jack slipped carefully from the bed and dressed for a run. He hit the beach and tried to clear his head.
    He’d never been good with words.
    Now he needed to find the right ones to change the rest of his life.
    RACHEL woke to the sound of the shower running. She smelled coffee and smiled, relishing the intimacy of sharing her morning with another adult. Rolling to her side, she searched for a clock and found one on the nightstand on Jack’s side of the bed. It was turned away from her, so she crawled over and moved it. Seven forty-five.
    Beside the clock was Jack’s badge and billfold. She stared at the silver star, feeling a rush of pride and respect. He was a Shadow Stalker, a member of the U.S. Marshals Service’s elite Special Operations Group. He’d explained the nickname to her once—the Shadow Stalkers unit hunted dangerous fugitives, or “shadows,” and waited in the shadows of federal courthouses during high-profile cases. His job suited him so well that she couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. She certainly would never ask him to give it up, even though the thought of losing him terrified her.
    Reaching for the badge, she accidentally knocked the wallet to the floor. It landed on its back and flopped open. Her smiling face stared up at her.
    She got out of bed. Bending down, she picked the billfold up. It felt wrong to pry, but she couldn’t resist. Whose image did he carry with him? Who were the important people in his life?
    Rachel turned each plastic photo protector slowly, touched to see pictures of Steve and Riley along with ones of her. But when she reached the end and found only one photo that wasn’t of her family—one with several guys in bulletproof vests and sunglasses—she frowned. There were no pictures of parents or siblings, or nieces and nephews. No photos of himself with anyone.
    Her heart broke a little. “Jack,” she whispered, wondering if he felt as alone as he suddenly seemed to