by Lili Valente
“I wasn’t frowning because of the oatmeal,” she said as she turned off the burner and pulled the pot away from the heat. “I was just thinking.”
“Always a dangerous thing.” He held her gaze, his dark eyes boring a hole through her skin and straight into her soul, making her certain he could read her thoughts. “What were you thinking about?”
“Your job,” she said, impulsively. It was at least partly the truth and she didn’t like keeping secrets from Jackson if she didn’t have to. “I was thinking about how dangerous it must be. It worries me.”
“You don’t have to worry. I know what I’m doing.” He threaded his hands together into a fist as he leaned his forearms on the counter. “But I’ve decided to take some time away from my work. There’s nothing that can’t keep until after the holidays and I figure I have enough on my plate at the moment.”
Hannah glanced up from the pot, her spoon stilling. “You mean me?”
“I mean you,” he confirmed, sending a shiver of awareness across her skin. “I find you take up an inordinate amount of my focus.”
She fought a smile. “Well…good.”
His eyes narrowed even as his mouth curved. “I thought you were only doing smug on Saturdays and Tuesdays.”
“Isn’t it Saturday?” she asked, deciding she enjoyed flirting with Jackson almost as much as she enjoyed being naked with the man.
“Thursday.”
“Oh, well then. Sorry about that.” She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “Guess my focus has been off, too. I seem to have lost all track of time. Do you want some oatmeal? I have almonds and fruit to put on top.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “Thank you.”
She turned back to the cupboards, chuckling softly to herself as she fetched two bowls.
“What’s funny?” he asked when she returned to the stove.
“Nothing,” she said, still grinning. “You’re just cute when you do normal things like say thank you for your oatmeal.”
“I wasn’t raised in a barn, either, you know,” he said, sliding onto a stool on the other side of the island. “And I’m not cute. Ever.”
“I have to disagree, Mr. Hawke.” She sprinkled chopped almonds, berries, and pineapple on his oatmeal before placing the bowl and the honey pot in front of him. “There are times when you are adorable.”
His smile faded. “And there are times when I’m a nightmare. Don’t forget those, Hannah.”
“I won’t,” she said, keeping her tone light. “But it’s too early for Broody McScary to come out to play. So be sweet and eat your oatmeal and then we can decide what to do with the rest of the day.”
He arched one brow. “You do have a bossy side.”
“I know,” she said with a wink. “I never claimed to be submissive all the time, either, you know.”
He studied her as he reached for his spoon. “I wonder if you’re a switch.”
“A switch?” She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“A submissive who enjoys taking her turn as the Dominant or vice versa.”
She frowned. “I don’t know, but I don’t think so. I don’t like the idea of tying you up.” She took a bite, humming beneath her breath as she added more honey to her bowl. “No, I take that back. I do like the idea of tying you up, but not for sexual reasons. Just when you make me angry. There are times when you’d be more manageable tied up.”
“And times when I more than earn a spanking?” he asked, eyes sparkling.
“Of course.” She licked honey off the tip of her spoon, not missing the way Jackson’s eyes followed her tongue. “But that wouldn’t be sexual either. In a bedroom situation, I prefer to be the one being spanked.”
“And I prefer spanking you,” he said, his voice husky.
“So maybe I shouldn’t follow the rules all the time,” she said, hips swaying back and forth as she leaned her palms onto the counter. “I do enjoy being punished now and then.”
“Eat your oatmeal,” he said, the intensity in his gaze making her blood rush faster. “Or you’ll be eating it cold.”
“Why’s that?” she asked though she already knew exactly what was going through his head. There were times when Jackson was a mystery, but there were also times like these when she swore she could read every thought flitting through his beautifully dirty mind.
“Because if I hear one more word out of that pretty mouth, I’m going to have you for breakfast.”
Hannah’s tongue slipped out to dampen her lips before she whispered, “One word.”
Jackson’s spoon clattered into his bowl. A moment later he was around the island, pulling her into his arms as he lifted her onto the counter and reached beneath her cover up. As soon as her swimsuit bottom hit the floor, he knelt between her legs, his lips finding where she was already wet and his wicked tongue working its magic. He brought her over twice—once without honey and a second time after drizzling a sticky spoonful across her clit and licking her clean—before he stood and reached for the close of his pants.
“You should put on swim trunks,” she panted, hands shaking as she helped push his boxer briefs over the firm mounds of his ass. “Easier access.”
“You should stop making me want to fuck you every ten minutes.”
Her response died on her lips, becoming a moan of satisfaction as Jackson’s cock drove inside her, pushing through her already pulsing flesh. Cupping her buttocks in his big hands, he rode her hard and fast, the urgency in his thrusts making it clear how much it had turned him on to bring her pleasure.
“Yes, Jackson,” she said, gasping as he shoved deeper. “God, yes.”
“Come for me again,” he growled as he claimed her mouth, sending the taste of her own salty heat rushing through her mouth as he kissed her. “Come for me, sunshine.”
She obeyed with a ragged cry, her pussy contracting with an intensity that was almost painful. She wasn’t sure her body was built to withstand three orgasms in such rapid succession, but she wasn’t about to complain, not when she was flooded with such mind-numbing bliss.
Jackson pulled out this time, groaning into her mouth as he pressed his cock between them and came on the fabric of the cover up bunched at her waist. She would have to change again, but who cared?
Not her. She didn’t care a bit about cold oatmeal or changing clothes or anything but how perfect it felt to be wrapped in Jackson’s arms, catching her breath as they both drifted back to earth.
“Looks like you were right about the timing,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’ll have Adam pick up supplies for you when he goes to the market this afternoon.”
Hannah’s brow furrowed until she glanced down and saw the blood on Jackson’s still semi-erect length. “Oh my God,” she said, embarrassment rushing through her. “I’m so sorry. I knew it was close to time, but I—”
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, reaching for the dishtowel beside the stove. “There’s no reason to be sorry.”
“I’m sorry because it’s gross,” she said, blushing as he cleaned himself and began to wipe away the red smears on her thighs.
“It’s not gross. It’s part of you and no part of you is gross.”
Hannah’s lips parted, but before she could think of how to respond to something so sweet, Jackson continued.
“It also means that we’ve dodged a bullet. If we don’t want to use condoms we need to figure out an alternative soon.” He knelt down, plucking her swimsuit bottom from the floor and dropping it into her hands. “Maybe an IUD? I can find a doctor to make a house call if you think that’s a good option.”
She nodded as she eased off the counter, suddenly feeling shy. “That would probably be best. Birth control pills would take too long to work, so…yeah. Let’s do that.”
He studied her face before asking in a softer voice, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, stepping into her suit. “Just a little embarrassed.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He squeez
ed her shoulder gently. “I’m a grown man. I stopped being bothered by things like this a decade ago.”
“I believe you,” she said with a nervous shrug. “I don’t know. I guess it’s the birth control talk, too. It makes this seem so much more real.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted?”
She lifted her gaze. “It is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.” One side of her mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “You’re like fire, Jackson. Beautiful, but a little intimidating to get close to.”
“I understand.” His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “I feel the same way about you.”
“I’m not intimidating,” she said with a breathy laugh. Her skin prickled in response to his touch, her body already wanting him again. She felt like she would never get enough of him, not even if their ten days turned into ten thousand.
“No, you’re terrifying,” he said. “Like a tropical storm, coming to sweep away everything I’ve worked to build.”
“Well, you can always rebuild,” she said, strangely flattered by the comparison. “Start fresh from the ground up.”
“Maybe I could,” he said thoughtfully.
“I called my aunt,” Hannah said, sensing that they both needed a change of subject. “She already has a team in place to frame the new cottages.”
His hand dropped from her face. “Good. I’m glad she was able to find someone. I know skilled workers can be in short supply on the islands.”
As they washed up and ate their now-cold oatmeal, they continued to chat about safer topics, but Hannah’s mind was never far from Jackson’s words.
Maybe she was his tropical storm. But maybe a tropical storm was what he needed in order to have a shot at turning his life around.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Six Days Later
Jackson
Back when Jackson had been on active duty in the Marines, there never seemed to be enough time. He was always busy with work and when he wasn’t, he was playing as hard as he could, determined to live hard and go to his grave with no regrets.
But since his time in prison, he’d lost awareness of the passage of time. Fueled by rage and obsession, months had faded into years without any change of heart or mind to mark them. Still if anyone had asked, he would have said his days were full. But by the start of his seventh day of his new beginning with Hannah, he had realized that before he’d met her, time had been standing still.
With her, hours were devoured in an instant, a day here and gone in the blink of an eye. It seemed he’d just awoken with her in his arms and already it was dusk and they were wandering along the beach in the sunset light, talking about their plans for tomorrow.
He’d heard that time flew when you were having fun, but it had been so long since he’d experienced anything even close to “fun” that it took a few days for him to recognize the light, pleasantly expectant feeling that filled him when he woke up each morning. Finally, sometime between picking oranges in the grove with Hannah Saturday afternoon and going for a morning sail around the island Monday morning, it hit him that he was having fun.
Simply sharing a day with her was enough to make it feel like he was on a permanent vacation from the evil in the world, and there was always something to look forward to. There was another moment in her company, another smile, another brush of her lips against his, and the touch of her hand reaching for him between cool sheets.
By Wednesday morning, he already knew he was going to need more than ten days. If time kept flying by at this rate, he might need a hundred.
It was a sobering thought, and one that made him keep to himself more than he had since the morning Hannah pulled him off the plane. He ate breakfast alone in his room and worked on answering email and paying bills until nearly ten o’clock. When he finally emerged, Hannah was nowhere to be found, but there was a note on the kitchen counter saying that she’d gone to the beach and that if he wanted to he should come join her.
Of course he wanted to. All he wanted was to be with her, but taking too much time off from work could wreck his business. If he was out of the loop for an extended period of time, his connections would find new places to buy and sell their weapons, and he would be out of a job. He had a good amount of money stored away, but not enough to continue living the way he had for the past several years.
But you don’t have to live that way anymore. Harley’s dead. You can let the detectives go, call off the hunt, and start thinking about what you want to do with what’s left of your life.
As Jackson stepped outside and started down the road to the beach, he began to imagine again what it might be like to let go, to let Hurricane Hannah finish destroying the man he had been and see what sort of creature would arise from the ashes. Maybe it wouldn’t be a monster or a man who felt uneasy when a day passed more perfectly than expected.
Maybe it would be someone new, someone who would know how to take proper care of the beautiful woman rocking back and forth in the hammock in front of him, so absorbed in her book she didn’t notice him until he leaned against the palm tree near her feet.
“Oh my God,” she said, flinching so hard her book tumbled to the ground as she started laughing. “You scared me. I was just getting to the good part.”
He knelt, picking up her paperback and shaking the sand off before glancing at the cover. “Another murder mystery?”
“Adam bought it for me yesterday when he was in Moorea.” She scooted back on the hammock and drew her legs into her chest. “I don’t know why I’m so addicted to them. I usually prefer something with a happy ending and a lower body count.”
He returned the novel before easing into the hammock across from her and holding the netted rope out to one side to make room for her legs. Closing the book she stretched out, curling her toes beneath his ribs. Despite the warmth of the day, he could feel her chilled skin through his tee shirt.
But then, her toes were always cold. It was one of the many things he’d learned about Hannah since he’d become incapable of thinking about anything else for more than a few minutes at a time.
“Maybe my dark side is rubbing off on you,” he said, capturing one of her feet and warming it between his hands.
She smiled. “I don’t think so. It’s the puzzle aspect that’s appealing. I have a few puzzles I’d like to solve.” Her smile faded. Her toes wiggled against his palm before she added in a softer voice, “That’s why I’ve decided to tell you my last name.”
His hands stilled, but before he could decide whether he wanted the information she was offering, she pushed on—
“It’s Mason. My father is Stewart Mason. He won a senate seat in North Carolina a few years ago so you might have heard of him.”
“The name’s familiar,” he said, his throat dry despite the coconut water he’d downed with breakfast. “Your family is wealthy.”
“Very,” Hannah said bluntly. “My mother’s family had more money than God and my father’s side made hers look two steps from the poor house.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Fortune 500 magazine covered their wedding. An aerial shot of the estate where I grew up made the cover.”
Jackson grunted as he dug his thumb into the arch of her foot, massaging her instep. There went his theory that Harley had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks and been forced into what she’d done. An heiress wasn’t the kind of person who was easily pushed around; she was more the kind to do the pushing.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Hannah prodded his ribs with her free toes. “Ugh?”
“So you’ve decided I’m not crazy?” he asked, lifting his gaze to hers. “Or at least not too crazy to trust with your secret?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy.” Hannah cocked her head, shooting him a wry look. “You’ve been very well behaved the past week.”
“Not the entire week,” he said, lifting her foot to his mouth and biting her big toe, making her squeal.
“Stop it.” She tried to tug her leg aw
ay, but he held on tight. “I’m serious, Jackson, that’s disgusting. Feet don’t belong in your mouth.”
“I put all your other parts in my mouth,” he said, biting her little toe right where the flesh peaked in the center. “Some much more exotic than your sweet little toes.”
She flushed. “I don’t walk on the dirty ground with any of those parts.”
“Is this a hard limit?” he asked, his mouth hovering above an as-yet-unbitten toe. “If it is, you should let me know now.”
After a moment she shook her head, her breath rushing out with a sigh. “No, it’s not. What are you going to do?”
“If it’s not a hard limit? I’m going to keep biting your toes.”
“Not about that,” she said, refusing to let him off the hook. “About the other. What are you going to do now that you know Harley’s last name?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Now that I know she’s really gone…”
He brought Hannah’s foot back to rest on his chest and wrapped his hands around her toned calf, simply because it felt good to touch her. “Even if she were alive, I’m not sure I’d know what to do. I won’t lie, I would still want to hurt her. But I wouldn’t want to hurt you in the process.”
Hannah sat up and leaned in to place her hands gently over his. “If she were still alive, I’d make sure she paid for what she did to you myself.”
His lips curved. “I believe you would.”
“I’m not joking,” Hannah insisted. “I’m very fierce when it comes to the people I love.”
Jackson held her fathomless gaze and slowly forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but it was the first time in the past few days. The first time since he’d started to feel incomplete when he wasn’t within touching distance of this woman who affected him like no other.
The first time since he’d begun to suspect that maybe his heart wasn’t twisted beyond repair.
“I…” He swallowed the words before they could find their way out into the air. It was too soon. Once those words were out, there would be no going back and he didn’t trust himself to make promises. Not yet. “I was wondering if you’d stay a little longer,” he said, hoping he’d covered the awkward moment.
