by Jaycee Clark
This was a surprise. “Ah, Jessie.” Aiden shook his head, even as he caught a teardrop falling from her eye. “There’s nothing to forgive. In the scheme of everything, Brice and your reaction to my nonexistent engagement isn’t important. You love me. I love you. And we’ll figure the rest out.”
A small smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, I do love you. So much, it frightens me.”
“Tell me about it.”
She pulled the same corner of her mouth in, nibbled on it. “I just wish I could remember everything else about that night so I could get on with my life.”
“Patience.” Though he was about out of his.
“Aiden, I’m tired of waiting.” She shifted in her seat. “I want this over. I swear if you had your way I’d still be in bed.” Her tired voice was laced with exasperation.
Aiden gave her what he hoped was a wicked grin that masked his anger and said, “That, Jessie girl, is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Her one-sided grin peeked out and he saw his need answered in her eyes. His dropped to her mouth and he watched as she licked her lips.
“I think when we get back, you need to take a nap,” he whispered, and gently pulled her towards him. They met over the console. Her lips were sweet and giving. The kiss, soft and gentle, made him wish they were at home and not sitting in the police department parking lot. Aiden reluctantly pulled away.
Jesslyn’s eyelids half covered her dark eyes. They rose as her gaze met his. “I was thinking more along the lines of a bath.”
This time when their smiling mouths met, it was a kiss driven from need, from want, from hunger. He nibbled on her lower lip, licked the inside of her mouth slowly, grazed his finger around her ear.
Her breath shuddered into his mouth. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
Finally, he pulled back, the blood roaring in his veins. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.” Aiden turned the key, backed the truck around, and headed home with thoughts of making love to Jesslyn keeping him occupied and his rage leashed.
• • •
The room was hazy with the late afternoon light slanting through the wooden blinds.
Aiden sat back in the chair, Jessie straddling him, her knees wedged between his hips and the chair.
He ran one hand slowly up her naked torso. Some bruises mottled across her chest and torso. He leaned up and kissed one, then the next. He licked the undersides of her breasts and she moaned, spearing her fingers through his hair.
Soft music played from a stereo in the bathroom. They’d had their bath and he’d given in to her when she’d gotten out, dripping wet and sat on the counter beckoning him. He’d made her come, pulsing against his mouth before slipping inside her. He could still taste her essence mixing with the flowery musk, purple bubble bath she’d used.
He licked his way to wind around her nipples before pulling them into his mouth, scraping them lightly with his teeth before suckling her hard. Her moan reached into him and grabbed hold. Her skin was moist and warm against his mouth, the chair’s leather cool against his back. The contrast spiked the need in him even more.
She rose up on her knees, then slid slowly back down on him. He closed his eyes, letting her ride him. Up and down, slowly, torturously.
Aiden leaned back and watched her. They were both silent, only watching, the sounds of their breaths mixed between them.
Her lashes fluttered down as he reached up and rolled her nipples, then pulled them between his fingers.
She arched her neck and he ran his hand up her, cupped her face, then skimmed his hand down the toned lines of her.
Her pace increased, but he stood, pulling her legs from between him and chair before sitting down again.
Aiden hooked her knees over his arms and watched her eyes widen, watched passion shift in the dark depths as she realized how vulnerable she was. He ran his hands up and down her back, then caressed her buttocks.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, watching her as he shifted deeper. She was so small he could feel her womb against him.
Her eyes clouded and she licked her lips, shaking her head.
He grazed one finger between the globes of her backside and smiled as she shuddered against him, clenching tight around him.
Aiden held her hips, moved her on him as he wanted, reveled in the fact she was his and trusted him enough to give him the control.
Grinning wickedly, she bent back, reached behind her and fondled him.
Aiden sucked in his breath and shifted her again. “My way.”
She pouted, then gasped again as he reached between them and flicked his finger over that one little spot that would send her spinning.
He kept the pace slow and controlled until she begged him. Pressing deep inside her, he also pressed her clitoris against his finger and shaft, watched her as she threw her head back and shattered in his arms. Aiden pumped once more and emptied himself into her, dropping his head to her shoulder and feeling her heart against his lips as she leaned forward.
He wondered if he’d ever get enough of her.
Chapter 22
Sometime in the early hours before dawn, Jesslyn awoke. Terror choked her. Sharp images flashed in her mind, then broke off, cloaked in darkness. But the fear remained, jagged edged fear that iced her veins and made tears sting in her eyes.
Calm down. She had to calm down. Concentrate.
Jesslyn had been through this mantra endless times. Think about the oxygen bringing peace to her, while the carbon dioxide expelled the tensions. In. Out. Deep. Again.
When she’d battled the terror back enough to think clearly, she remembered where she was.
Aiden? She reached over, and warmth touched her fingertips.
She was so cold. The feelings of the dream lingered, but try as she might she couldn’t conjure up a memory of what the nightmare had been about. Something nagged at the back of her mind. Water. Blood. Then nothing.
The fear swirled around her, pulled at her mind. Chills raced up her spine. Jesslyn tried to hold the shudder in. She didn’t want to awaken Aiden, but it was pointless. The cold seeped deep into her, settled in her very soul.
Why couldn’t she remember? Sleep pulled at her, even as the darkness pushed her to stay awake. The terror reduced her to a child, afraid of the monsters hiding in the shadows. Awake one could guard; asleep, one was open to attack.
Aiden’s arm, wrapped around her waist, pulled her back against his solid warmth. The heat radiated out of him, across her, through her, dispelling some of the cold, banishing the panic back to anxiety.
Jesslyn worried her bottom lip, tried to force herself to relax.
“What’s wrong?” Aiden’s gruff whisper tickled her ear. He tried to clear his throat.
She didn’t want to bother him, maybe she could pretend to be asleep. His arm tightened. “Nothing.”
“You’re cold.” Aiden leaned up on his elbow, tried to turn her over, but she wouldn’t let him.
“I’m fine. Sorry I woke you.”
Aiden put his finger under her chin, forced her face to turn to his. In the silvery light of the moon, he studied her. Those eyes, heavy with sleep, were still intense. A frown marred between his onyx eyebrows, dark stubble dusted his jaw.
“What?” he demanded.
“I just had a dream, that’s all. Nothing big.” She sincerely hoped she didn’t look pale and gaunt as she usually did after a journey through her nightmares. Aiden would hound her endlessly then.
“Bad?” His eyes mirrored his concern.
Guess she looked like she felt. “I don’t know, I don’t really remember.”
His confusion was evident in the pull of his brow, the narrowing of his gaze.
“I mean, I just get flashes. Nothing really. It’s just the feeling won’t go away.” Jesslyn scooted back onto her side, and after several stretched moments, Aiden lay again beside her. His arm an anchor around her, his breath and heat warming her.
This was nice. In her exhausted state, her mind wouldn’t complete her thoughts logically. She was getting lost and confused. Just wanted to sleep.
But, slumber was not always safe. The wary were brought down, devoured in fear. Strong became weak. Adults became children. The hardened cried.
Jesslyn sometimes loathed sleep.
After a few minutes, she thought Aiden was asleep when he asked, “Feeling? What feeling?”
She tried to shrug.
“Jessie.” He drew her name out, more of a demand than a request.
“I don’t know what the dream was of. But it was bad. I wish I remembered what happened in it.”
“Why?” he asked, puzzlement clear in his voice.
“Because I think it was important.” His warmth was calming. Reassuring. Safe.
A few more minutes passed. Their breathing filled the silence. The wind, whipping through the window, hummed and cooled the air around them. The heady perfume of damp grass and dew-heavy flowers lingered in the air.
“You should try to sleep, Jessie girl.” Aiden’s deep voice was a comfort.
Drowsiness tugged at her. He wasn’t the only one worn out.
Just as sleep started to descend, a flash, crystalline in its clarity. A bloody handprint on a window. Swimming in a churning crimson lake with bodies floating around her. Lightning ripped the sky in two.
Jesslyn turned, burrowed into the security Aiden offered. His arms held her to him. The strong, steady beat of his heart soothed in its rhythm. Slowly, peace settled into her, vanquishing the image. Aiden kissed her forehead and rubbed her back up and down.
“You’re safe, you know.”
“I know.” Was that her voice?
His hands continued to soothe, to calm. Finally, she started to ease. For him, she evened her breathing, forced her muscles lax. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to be tormented like this? It was humiliating to be brought this low, to be this vulnerable. In minutes, Aiden’s movements slowed. His breathing leveled and she dared a look at him.
When she knew he was asleep, she carefully slipped from the bed. Grabbing a sweatshirt from the chair, she pulled it on over her pajamas, then grabbed a pair of socks and quietly slipped out the door.
In the living room, Jesslyn stared out at the darkened predawn morning, at the engulfing blackness beyond the window. She rubbed her arms, tried to dispel the chill. She didn’t even feel like sitting in the little window seat, or going to the office.
The tension and anger in Aiden had been evident to her all week. The fear something might have changed between them haunted her beneath the terror. For the first time in a long time, Jesslyn needed someone, and she was scared she was losing the only person she wanted. Not that she’d ever tell Aiden that. He’d roll his eyes and tell her she was being stupid.
For the last week, he’d been gentle, kind and caring, so attentive, she’d wanted to yell at him. His touches were fewer than before the attack, and maybe even more hesitant, as though careful not to startle her. Jesslyn had decided she was going to have to seduce him if she had to, but thankfully, something had changed all that this afternoon.
Their love had pushed the fear back, kept it at bay. Aiden could do that when she let him. She sighed. Beautiful. Life with Aiden was beautiful. Or it could be.
Besides the fear stalking her, was sorrow too. She’d missed Maddy’s funeral because she was in the damn hospital and no one would let her go. T.J. and Tim had threatened to tie her to the bed and Aiden said he would have helped them.
There was simply no way she could go to Tammy’s. She felt horribly ashamed for that. Cowardice was never something she liked to admit to, but a coward she was. Jesslyn just wasn’t ready to see Tammy’s mother, or go to the ceremony.
Death, fear, funerals, sorrow. Hell, at this rate she’d be locked in a padded room in no time.
She rubbed her face and turned from the window. The house was silent except for the hum of the alarm system, the ceiling fans. Why had she never noticed that before? Quiet sounds. Her edginess had honed her senses to the point she was jumpy. She headed towards the kitchen through the darkened living room.
A noise had her stopping, straining to hear. Nothing—stupid, she was being stupid. Another thing she hated. Fear. Since the lake, Jesslyn was afraid of everything, though she’d never admit it to anyone. The thought of sleep frightened her, startling noises made her jump, the thought of something happening to Aiden, or again to her, intruded on her carefully illusioned peace. It was almost as though she was waiting for something to reach out of the darkness and grab her.
Calm down. Think of something mundane. Mundane . . .
Tea, she’d make some tea. Not any of that herbal and flavored kind Kaitlyn had stocked up on, but some nice strong tea like her Nana used to make. Shaking her head, she continued into the kitchen, quietly picked up the kettle and started to fill it with water. She was not about to start losing her mind. Every little noise made her leap out of her skin. With a sigh, Jesslyn tried to relieve some of the tension that always shrouded around her.
The soft pale light from the stove cast a yellowed glow over the kitchen. As water gushed into the pot, she stared out the window. She’d always loved the nights, the peace and stillness they offered, the stars. Before, she might have picked such a night as this to take her tea and sit out on the porch in the old rocker, to let the quiet stillness settle her. But now, the idea of going out there terrified her. Anyone could be out there, watching, waiting . . .
A fog clouded her eyes. She heard the lap of water. Felt eyes on the back of her neck. A circle of light. White car.
Water poured over her hand as it ran down the side of the kettle, pulling her back from the flash in her mind’s eye. Jesslyn tried to concentrate as the image faded. She fought to hold on to it, but it slipped past her. Damn. If only she could . . .
“What are you doing up?”
She whirled. The kettle dropped to the hard wood floor with a resounding clank. Water soaked her feet, the hem of her flannel pants. Her heart beat faster and faster. She couldn’t catch a breath.
“Missy? Hey, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Calm down.”
As if through a tunnel, Jesslyn saw the massive form of Jock Kinncaid walking towards her, felt the wetness on the floor, heard him talking, but couldn’t make out the words.
Jock’s deep voice, like the rumble of a thundering waterfall, pulled her back. Back, back, until she stood staring at him, blinking to clear the image, the terror, from her mind.
“Missy, why don’t you sit down? You’re as white as the moon.” He held a large hand out to her.
Jesslyn couldn’t figure out what to do. Then clarity returned and a deep cleansing sigh drooped her rigid shoulders.
A fool. The man probably thought she was a fool. The water still gushed into the empty sink. Jock reached around her and turned the faucet off, never making a move to touch her.
Jesslyn saw concern in his blue depths. She shook her head, pushed a strand of hair back from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. What to say to him? Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip. The habit of nibbling on it when she was nervous had made it sore lately. She tried for a small smile.
“I don’t know who jumped more, me when you startled me, or you when I dropped the kettle.” Jesslyn wondered why the entire household wasn’t up and investigating the noise. She saw his hand drop back to his side.
Her socks were soaked, as were the hem of her pajamas. She noticed Jock’s socks were standing in the puddle as well, and like her, the bottom of his blue striped p.j.’s were absorbing the moisture.
Jock didn’t return her smile, just studied her in that intense way his son often did. In no time, the two of them working in silence completed the task of cleaning up the mess. They tossed the gobs of wet white towels in the trash and stood staring at each other.
Jesslyn started to feel self-conscious. She’d go back to bed if she could sleep, but she knew full well
that wasn’t going to happen.
“Little early, isn’t it?” Jock asked, as he refilled the kettle with hot water and sat it on the stove. “Why don’t you sit down?” Like Aiden, Jock had a way of making questions sound like demands. “You’re still a bit pale.” He leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his wide chest.
Jesslyn started for the table. She was tired, but tired and sleepy were two vastly different things.
“On second thought,” he said, “why don’t you go change your socks. You’re leaving wet footprints.” His large finger pointed behind her. The faint glow from over the stove shone on small wet prints across the wood. “Wet socks aren’t good, they let you get cold. And you, Jesslyn, do not need to get cold.”
Without a word to him, she left the kitchen, crept down the hall and back into the bedroom. Aiden slept on his side, facing the door. The covers tucked beneath his arms. As quietly as possible, she got out a clean, dry pair of socks and slipped them on after tossing the soggy ones into the bathroom. The bottoms of her p.j.’s clung to her legs. On a sigh, she slipped those off and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.
Once back in the kitchen she sat at the table, saw two mugs sitting on the counter, but no Jock. Maybe he went back to bed. When the kettle whistled, she got up and moved it to the back burner. She didn’t want a mug of tea, but figured Jock might, so she poured one of the mugs full and watched the tea bag in it bounce to the top. Chamomile. The scent wafted strong from the rising steam. Jesslyn opened the cabinet to the right of the stove and dug around until she found her box of loose leaf tea. She dumped a couple of tablespoons into the kettle and set the lid back on it.
Someone cleared their throat and she turned to see Jock standing a ways away.
“That isn’t going to relax you. You’re supposed to drink herbal stuff.” His finger bobbed in the general direction of the mugs.
