by JM Stewart
Tension rose in the air between them, thick and heavy. She couldn’t deny the truth of his words. He used to make her blush and giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I loved a lot of things about you.” Like how safe she used to feel lying in his arms. She let out a long sigh. “Can we get this over with?”
In the span of a breath, his playful smile melted from his face.
“Forget it.” He shook his head and pushed up off the floor, sending her toppling onto her rear end beside him. “I hoped this would ease the tension between us. You always relaxed when we touched. But forget it. This is not what I had in mind. If you don’t want to be here, then I won’t force you.”
He rose to his feet, towering above her, and turned in search of his shirt. She could only sit and blink as the truth rose over her. She had all of about two seconds before the moment flitted from her grasp. A little voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to let him go and be grateful for the distance. Any intimacy between them would only end with her back where she’d already been, in love with a man who didn’t appear to love her.
“Jack, wait.”
God help her, she had an overwhelming desire to touch him again. One more time she wanted to feel the soft, silky warmth of his skin beneath her palms. Besides, he’d fulfilled his end of the bargain, had allowed himself to take a beating tonight. Sparring could be hard on the body, but he’d taken it in stride, had even seemed to enjoy himself. The women had loved working with him. He’d had the whole group laughing for the entire hour, but more than a few of them had come away from the experience with pride, the knowledge that they weren’t so helpless anymore. She owed him for that.
She also couldn’t ignore the hurt and disappointment written in the lines of his face. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d hurt him, too, in the divorce. What harm could a back rub possibly do?
He shook his shirt out, turning a scowl on her. “I do not make a woman do anything she doesn’t want to.”
“A promise is a promise.” Her heart hammered in her ears, and her hands shook, but she patted the carpet beside her. “Those women really enjoyed you tonight. I owe it to you. Lay down. One little knot adds up and throws your whole system off. You’ll be all kinky tomorrow if we don’t work this out now.”
She caught the words too late to stop them from leaving her mouth. Great. Now she’d done it. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, praying he’d leave the comment alone.
Unfortunately, he didn’t miss a beat. Quiet laughter rumbled out of him. “I might actually like kinky.”
This time his teasing went too far, niggling at the self-doubt, at the broken part of her heart.
Becca opened her eyes and furrowed her brow, though whether she was irritated at his teasing or at herself for responding, she couldn’t be sure. “You know, your constant teasing isn’t cute anymore. It’s childish and condescending.”
She expected another sassy comeback. Instead, he stood silent, studying her. For a moment she wondered if he’d shut her out again, but his chest rose as he drew a breath.
“Do you recall the other morning when I told you I missed the sound of your laughter?” He paused, his voice low and vibrating with regret.
The quiet honesty in his voice, something he never would have allowed her to hear a year ago, stunned her. “Yes.”
“Once upon a time, you used to smile at me. You used to laugh at the bawdy jokes I tossed at you. Lord, I used to love watching you blush. By God, you’re beautiful when your cheeks light up. Your laugh could make my whole world right again. On a lousy day, your laughter illuminated my world.” He gave a slow shake of his head, but his gaze never left hers. “Now I’m lucky if I can get you to smile at me, and I’m entirely too aware of how badly I screwed this up. I can’t take back the things I did, sweetheart. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I wish I could. But I still miss the sound of your laughter. I miss your smile the most.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. The emotion in his voice went straight to her heart and lodged there. Tears prickled behind her eyelids.
Jackson simply stood, shirt in one hand, arms hanging at his sides, waiting. He looked . . . vulnerable, and damned if she could leave him out there all by himself. If only because he was being open with her, and because when she needed him, he’d been there.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and offered him a smile, pointing at the floor. “Lie down.”
One blond brow arched. “You sure?”
“I’m positive. Now, lie down. I know you, Jack. One muscle out of whack and your whole back knots up. Let me help.”
He studied her a moment, then set his shirt on the sofa and stretched out on the floor again. “I really was only teasin’. I hoped if you laughed, you might relax. Maybe we could ease the tension between us.”
She straddled his body again, sinking onto his backside. She didn’t think she could relax. “I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll try to remember next time.”
She eyed his back, the smooth expanse of warm, tanned skin waiting for her touch, calling to her, begging her to caress it. Stealing herself for the contact, she took a deep breath, laid her trembling palms against the small of his back, and slid them upward along his spine. She continued up and began to knead his shoulders. He really was tense.
She bit her lip. His skin was far better than she remembered, too. Smooth and so warm she yearned to wrap herself in it, the way she used to.
Jackson let out a low groan. “Lord, you always did have magic fingers.”
Silence stretched out between them as she continued to knead and ply his stiff muscles. As the minutes passed, tension mounted in the air like a tangible object, so different than it had been earlier. Ten minutes ago, the tension was of the ugly variety, an air of hurt and rejection. Now it was intimate, brought on by the simplicity of the physical contact. All too well she remembered the last time she’d laid her hands on his bare skin like this. They made love, in fact. In a position very similar to this one.
To make matters worse, the image flooded her mind, vivid and corporeal. His body linked with hers, moving in unison, stroking against each other, mouths tasting, hands clinging, bodies stuck together with the perspiration they’d worked up in each other. Every stroke of her hands over his body drew her further into the memory, further into the want and need building inside her since their dance in the kitchen a week ago.
Jackson didn’t relax beneath her. Rather, his body tensed, his muscles tightening beneath her palms.
“I think I’m fine now.” His voice was low and rough, and before she could ask what he meant, he rose to his feet, once again toppling Becca onto her rear end. His body stiff, he made his way out of the living room in long, determined strides, so quick she half expected to see the hounds of hell nipping at his heels. “Feels better. Much obliged, darlin’.”
At the doorway, he lifted a hand in farewell but didn’t stop or even bother to look back. A breath later, he disappeared around the corner, his steady footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving her to stare, stunned, after him. The back door opened and clicked closed a few moments later, and a knot rose in her throat.
Despite knowing she ought to leave this well enough alone, she followed after him. She knew that tone, knew it well. It meant he was shutting her out, and she needed to know why. She might not be able to do anything about it once he told her, didn’t even know if she wanted to, but the pain inside of her demanded an answer. She’d watched him shut her out one too many times.
She opened the back door and moved out onto the deck. Jackson leaned on the railing, peering out over the backyard, similar to his stance a few nights earlier. The rain that day had cleared, and the night was beautiful but cold. The full moon lit up the sky, and the clouds had parted, revealing thousands of stars, twinkling like diamonds against a black backdrop. Jackson seemed relaxed, as if h
e’d been there for a while, simply enjoying the unusual weather. As the door clicked shut behind her, he flinched, his back stiffening.
“If I were you, I’d go back inside.” He didn’t bother to turn around, and his tone brooked no objections.
A tone she knew well. He wanted his space. The sound irritated her and drew the pain deep inside to a fine, sharp point, slicing at her insides all over again. She fisted her hands at her sides and glared at his back. “I’m not a servant you can order around. You told me a few days ago that if you screwed up, I was to tell you. That you were trying, but I had to be patient. Well, you’re doing it. You’re shutting me out. Don’t I at least deserve to know why?”
His head turned, his expression frustratingly blank as his gaze moved over her, before he turned back to the yard. “Mmm. I did. Forgive my gruffness, but I’m currently not fit for company.”
This time, his tone proved too much to bear. It reminded her of the reason she’d left him. Standing there, staring at his back, she felt like that ghost again, invisible to him. The hurt rose in her chest, bringing the anger with it. She’d grown tired of this damn stony wall a long time ago. She could stand anything but that. “Dammit, Jack. Stop shutting me out. That’s what hurts. You never let me in, and it kills me.”
His head snapped in her direction and his eyes narrowed in warning. His chest rose and fell at an increasingly rapid pace, his hands tightening on the railing. “Becca, right now is not the time. I’m trying desperately to control myself, and if you push, I will snap.”
“What are you afraid of, Jack?” She stiffened her spine and stood straighter. “That you might actually feel something?”
As quickly as he’d shut her out, he pivoted and stalked across the deck toward her. She took a step back, but in a few long strides, he reached her, seized her waist, and dragged her against him. As her body hit his, a gasp escaped, but she could only stare at him, stunned. A war raged in the depths of his eyes. More emotion than she remembered seeing there in a long time. Desire, anger, pain, frustration, all fighting for supremacy.
She braced her hands on his chest, to push him away, but his head dipped down, his lips brushing over hers, the barest of kisses.
“Or else I may do something I’m pretty sure you’ll hate me for in the mornin’.” The low huskiness of his voice washed over her like a heated caress, sending shivers down her spine, and obliterating whatever defenses she’d managed to build against him. “The feel of your hands on me about drove me mad. Do you have any idea how aroused I am right now? I’m two seconds from picking you up and carrying you upstairs.”
Desire slid through her belly, hot and luscious, and her body melted into the solid press of his. His hot, moist breath teased her lips, his skin deliciously warm beneath her fingers. Her hands yearned to slide up his chest and into the silky hair at the back of his head. She trembled from the self-control required not to lift onto her toes and capture his mouth.
Lips she ached with every fiber of her being to taste again, because she remembered the heady power of his kisses. Her entire body yearned for him and him alone. She hadn’t had many lovers before she met him. Hell, she could count them all with two fingers. Neither compared to him.
“You wouldn’t dare.” The words had been a vain attempt to insert some sanity, but had come out on a breathy whisper instead. All because his lips hovered over hers. Her tongue ran along her lower lip as her gaze focused on his mouth. He was so achingly close, and she yearned with every cell in her body to remember the fierceness of his kiss, to know it again.
“I would, and with the mood I’m in, I’m not above playing dirty.” The determined catch in his voice made her breath hitch.
Jackson was used to getting what he wanted. He could be damned determined when he wanted to be. Now he leaned his head beside her ear, as if to torment her further. Or perhaps to prove his point—that he had her right where he wanted her. That he was in control. He was potent in seduction mode, and she had no resistance against him. Never had.
His breath blew warm against her skin, his voice husky with need as he murmured against the sensitive lobe of her ear. “I happen to know certain spots on your neck that are sure to make you forget you’re angry with me.”
A shudder rocketed through her, a soft exhalation escaping her. He knew certain spots on her neck that could make her melt to his whim, too. She swallowed past a desert-dry throat, but couldn’t summon the will to push him away.
“Like this one.” As if to prove his point, he nipped the curve of her shoulder with his teeth.
She couldn’t stifle her soft moan. It was her most sensitive spot and he knew it, because she remembered too well the first night he’d found it. The second time they’d made love, he’d gone slowly, had explored her body, inch by inch, testing her reactions. By the time he’d made his way between her thighs, she was little more than a hot puddle of arousal, darn near ready to combust from the soft huff of his breath on her intimate flesh.
Her fingers curled around his shoulders, anchoring her to him.
“And this one.” This time, his lips skimmed up her throat, his teeth nipping at the flesh beneath her earlobe. As promised, her mouth fell open, a quiet, needy whimper escaping.
“Jack, please . . .” Though whether she meant please stop or stop teasing and kiss me she couldn’t be sure, but her traitorous hands pulled him closer.
He lifted his head, his eyes darkening with arousal right before his mouth came down on hers. His kiss was gentle and languid. His lips plied hers, soft and unhurried, but with an undercurrent of raw hunger, and the flame in her belly ignited to a full body burn. He trembled against her, his erection thick and hard against her stomach. The sheer force of his desire conspired against her. A quiet moan escaped her, her mouth opening beneath his, and before she’d even thought about the wisdom of the action, she lifted onto her toes to deepen the contact.
A guttural groan rumbled out of him and he pulled his mouth from hers. He released her, grabbed her hand instead, and moved inside. Without a word, he stalked through the darkened house, leading her down the hallway and up the stairs into the bedroom in the tower. Their bedroom. Some part of her brain screamed at her to stop this now, but she couldn’t find the words. Or the need to say them. She’d always wanted him, always needed him, and heaven help her, her body responded to his languid kiss. He’d opened the floodgates, and good or bad, right or wrong, she needed this. The connection to him, the desire to be as close as she could possibly get. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. Things hadn’t changed between them. Their relationship was still as broken as it had been. On some level she knew that. But God, how she needed this one small thing.
He pulled her inside the room behind him then turned to her. The door barely clicked shut before he backed her against the wall. His eyes blazing, he seized her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. Like a starving man given sustenance, he devoured her. She could do little more than hold on as a tide of need washed through her, stealing her last ounce of resistance.
She couldn’t be certain who moved first. He reached for her the same moment she reached for him. Hands tore at clothing as they sought to free themselves enough to come together. His mouth never left hers, plundering, tormenting, and teasing. His hands plucked the button of her jeans open and slid down the zipper. She released him enough to take them off and kick them aside, then moved to help him with his slacks. She sank to her knees, helping him step out of them, stroking his erection in her palm as she rose to her feet.
Naked now from the waist down, he claimed her mouth again, cupped her bottom in his hot hands, and lifted her off her feet. In one swift motion, he pressed her back against the wall and surged forward, burying himself within her in one slow, luscious thrust.
Pleasure rocketed through her. She moaned softly against his mouth and dug her nails into his back. A shudder of sweet relief slid through her. She’d missed this. The fee
l of him inside of her and the power of his passion, and with his every thrust, she pushed back, matching his rhythm, his need. God, how she needed this, the connection to him, however small. It was a damn deceptive thing, the desire between them, but it filled that aching hole in her heart, and for this one moment, she let it.
He echoed the same need. His arms held her so close their bodies might as well have fused, and with every stroke, their coupling gained a frenzied rhythm. He took her soaring, lifting her to a fine, sweet edge and shoving her over so quickly that all the breath left her lungs. She bit down on his shoulder to stem her cries as the waves of pleasure swept over her. Face buried in her hair, he groaned, the sound almost torn from his chest, shuddering against her as his own climax claimed him
Long after their trembling subsided, they remained still and silent. His breathing was harsh and ragged in her ear, the cold wall against her back at odds with the warmth of his body. His hands had yet to release her, his arms still locked around her. She held him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder. She was afraid to let go, scared if she did, she’d regret making love to him, but more afraid he’d retreat from her. She couldn’t bear it if he pulled away now, shut her out.
All of which had emotion raging a war inside of her. Pain, fear, uncertainty, and need. Shame. All of it fighting for supremacy. She shouldn’t have given in. It was only lust. They fell together easily. Their desire for each other had always been fierce. It didn’t mean anything had actually changed. Not to mention their daughter lay sound asleep on the other side of the house and could get up at any moment and catch them. How in the world would they explain this to a six-year-old?
She ought to push out of his embrace and force herself to go to bed alone, for Allie’s sake, but the bittersweet moment caught her in the chest. She couldn’t make herself release him. The emotions she couldn’t deny anymore grabbed her and refused to let go. In truth, she craved this closeness with him, missed this the most, the intimacies he bestowed on her, however small. The part of her still in love with him refused to let him go just yet. Here, in this moment, they were one. No doubts. No endings. No wars. Only her need for him and his for her. It filled her with hope. That maybe he really did love her, in his own way. And right or wrong, she needed to hold on to that feeling for as long as she could, before reality reared its ugly head again.
