Breaking off the kiss, he spun her around and leaned her over her desk, hiking her skirt up. Cool air swept across her overheated sex. She gasped as he caressed the exposed flesh of her ass, gliding close to, but not touching, her core. Always teasing. She moaned when his hands left her and she pushed back, silently begging for him to return.
She’d never been this exposed with a lover before. Never let anyone this close. Always wondered if they would betray her. But she trusted Jackson. There was no rhyme or reason for it—she barely knew him. But her heart knew he would take care of her.
The telltale sound of a condom wrapper ripping open caused her skin to tingle.
“Damn, Kayla.” Jackson’s voice was rough. He caressed the skin of her ass. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look? All spread out, ready for me?”
He leaned over her body, his thick erection pressing against her sex, his breath hot on her neck.
“Baby, how do you want it?” His whiskey-smooth voice wrapped around her like a rope, binding her in place. “I can go nice and slow, make you feel good all night. Or we can do it fast and hard.” He ran his lips along her skin, nipped at her earlobe. “You deserve to get what you want. No compromise. I’ll give you anything, just tell me.”
I want you.
She clamped her lips together, terrified the thought would slip out. If she said it, he would know—know she didn’t just mean his body. She wanted his heart, his love.
She couldn’t tell him that.
“Hard. Fast. That’s how I want it.” Her voice was raw with need.
“Anything you want.”
He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, then his weight was gone, replaced with the sensation of being stretched by his hard cock. She cried out, arching back to take all of him, and he responded with fast, sharp jabs of his hips. Filling her, over and over again. It was incredible, this total abandonment of decorum and restraint. She was powerful, a goddess—just like their first night together—the only limits to her pleasure were the ones she imposed on herself.
His weight pressed down on her again, possessing her inside and out. The pleasure was unbearable, so intense. She cried out as he loved her, giving her what she needed. All the while, Jackson nuzzled her neck, her hair, and kissed away the pain, leaving only pleasure.
Michaela came with a cry, quickly followed by Jackson’s shudder. His cock throbbed and swelled inside of her, drawing out her orgasm and sending little aftershocks along her spine. She was limp as a doll when he gathered her in his arms and rocked her gently. Long moments stretched out as she regained her composure.
Jackson broke the silence with a gentle question. “You okay?”
Michaela nodded against his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” His tone was irritated and he didn’t bother to hide it as he shifted to look down at her. “Don’t you get it? You don’t need to apologize or beg for what you need. You ask for it and take it, or move on when the answer is no, but never be sorry for asking for what you need.”
His words hit too close to home, but he was right. She’d spent too long waiting for whatever little crumbs her father doled out and, if her earlier breakdown was any indication, she’d resented the hell out of it. Time to admit that she needed stuff like every other normal person on the planet.
“I think I needed that.” Her voice was rusty but had enough conviction for a first-timer.
“I think you did.” He nodded, a laugh rumbling deep in his chest. “And I think I know what you need now.”
She pulled back to get a better look at him, the grin on his face contagious. “And what would that be?”
“You need pie.”
…
“Why did you leave Elliott?”
Jack paused in his task of cleaning the counter at the Southern Comfort to consider Kayla’s question. Perched on the stool, she looked adorable with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, face bare of any makeup, and her lips pursed around the straw stuck into her chocolate milkshake. He groaned inwardly as she swallowed, her pink tongue slipping out to lick the last bit of chocolate from her lips. She was a teenager’s wet dream and he felt fourteen when he was around her—horny, horny, and…well, horny.
But, there was something more. He liked her. And, if he could risk sounding even more juvenile, he really liked her. She was beautiful, brilliant, kind, and brave. It was true, what he’d said earlier about her merely hiding from her father, but she was brave to try it in the first place. He’d seen Marines face down an enemy across a battlefield, but it took some special kind of guts to stand up to the one person who should have loved you the most—and didn’t.
He took her plate, empty except for a few crumbs of the chocolate peanut butter pie. Once again, he’d watched her inhale her dessert and smiled at her no-holds-barred enjoyment of such a basic pleasure.
You didn’t come between this woman and her pie.
“Are you going to answer my question?” she said.
And apparently, you didn’t ignore her and expect her to drop the topic.
A knock on the glass of the front door gave him an out. Crystal peered in at them, a smile on her face as she waved.
What the hell is she doing here?”
“Do you want me to go?” Michaela asked.
“Nope. I got it. You’re in danger, remember?”
“And you think Crystal is my stalker?”
“Sit.” He pointed at the stool, rounded the corner, and headed toward the door to unlock it. What could she want at this hour? “Hey, Crystal. You need something?”
In typical Crystal fashion, she pressed a red-clawed hand against his chest and pushed her way inside. He knew better than to fight her—she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Hey Jack. I saw the lights on and wondered who was in here.” She bobbed her head between the two of them like at a tennis match until it finally settled on Kayla. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Michaela.”
“I was working late and Jackson suggested his mother’s pie,” Kayla answered. “I couldn’t resist.”
Crystal slid onto a stool, her smile bright as she cozied up to Kayla. A little too bright. Jack watched her, suddenly a little nervous.
“Working late, huh? And Jack just happened to stop by?”
“Um…no.” Kayla shifted in her seat and fiddled with her silverware. “Jackson was helping me with…something.”
Crystal pounced, leaning forward to place a hand on Kayla’s arm. “So, he did spend all day at your office?”
“He was updating my security system,” Kayla said.
“And did you also stay at her place last night?” Crystal turned to look at Jack.
Jack stared at her. This woman had no sense of what was private or inappropriate. That was part of the reason he’d avoided ever having date number two with her. Well, that and the way she’d pawed at him all night. He’d gone home sore from her mauling.
He measured his words carefully, since they would be relayed to every other gossip in town. “She was attacked yesterday. It was a security precaution.”
“So you aren’t sleeping together?”
Kayla gasped. He ground his teeth and gripped the edge of the countertop in a supreme effort not to launch her ass out the front door and onto the sidewalk.
“Oh.” Crystal pouted. “I’ve offended you.” She turned her attention back to Kayla, whose mouth still hung open in shock. “Everyone is wondering and so am I. Just what kind of girl is the right type for the mysterious Jackson Cantrell? The man who left Elliott the day after high school graduation and only came back a handful of times.”
“I was in the military, Crystal. I couldn’t just up and leave whenever I wanted.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He’d been granted leave. He just didn’t take it and when he did, he didn’t use it to come home. The last six months was the longest period he’d spent in close proximity to his family in years, and much of that had been spent undercover. His
family knew better than to ask what he was doing—he’d only have to lie—and that just increased the gulf between them.
Oblivious, Crystal barreled on. “And, I know every soldier gets some leave to come home and see his mama.” She leaned conspiratorially toward Kayla. “Jack never did fit in around here, even though his family practically founded the place. Always so quiet and secretive… people wondered where he came from.”
Jack winced. He didn’t need anyone to remind him he’d missed out on the gene that allowed everyone else in his family to be free and easy with people they didn’t know. Too bad. In this town, keeping to yourself was a federal crime and he was a repeat offender.
And, yeah, she was a little too close to the truth with some of her bullshit. This subject was a touchy one for him and his family. They loved him, were proud of his service in the Marines and the FBI, but the fact that he’d seldom come back home hurt them. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Except feel guilty.
“Well, you don’t have to answer me, but we’re all wondering what’s going on between you two.” Crystal slid off the stool, briefly touching the shoulder of a deeply blushing Kayla, then headed toward the door. “The only woman you’ve dated since you got back into town has been me and we know that didn’t get past one date.”
He followed her out, stiff with anger. He opened the door, placed his hand at the small of Crystal’s back, and pushed her out of the door. Nothing too hard, nothing hurtful, just enough to make sure she understood that he wanted her gone. She flashed an amused glance at him before calling out a cheery good-bye to Kayla.
Crystal had titanium balls. He’d give her that much.
“I’m really sorry about that whole—” Words seemed to be inadequate to describe their trip into Crystal crazytown. When he turned, Kayla had wandered over to the jukebox. Her stare was riveted to the songs listed on the flip tabs.
He had no idea what to say. “It was one date. Nothing more.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said.
“Maybe not, but I want you to know anyway.”
Her back went rigid at his words. He could sense her icy walls going up from across the room. He didn’t like it, the way she disconnected from him when he was learning more about her, even though he cringed at letting her have the same access to him. He closed the distance between them, skirting around tables, stopping when he felt her heat and smelled the sweet scent of vanilla. She turned when he touched her shoulder.
Expecting the Ice Queen, his breath caught at what he saw. Desire. Affection. Hope. No one had ever looked at him like that before and he suddenly wanted to be that guy—the one who could live up to all those expectations. Luckily, he wouldn’t be around long enough for Kayla to figure out he could never be her hero.
Kayla examined his face, her brow creasing. He belatedly realized the door was now open to lots of questions he didn’t want to answer. Steeling himself for one straight from Oprah’s repertoire, she surprised him with the one she asked.
“Dance with me?”
The horror must have shown on his face because she laughed—an evil little giggle that told him he was in big trouble.
“Aaah…I found something you hate more than talking about yourself.”
“I can’t dance.”
“I’m not asking you to impersonate Patrick Swayze.”
Her smile was both sweet and a little wicked. There was nothing he could do but give in and suffer the consequences. Smiling in spite of himself, Jack kneeled, reached around the back of the jukebox, and fiddled with the wires until the box lit up like a carnival. He’d learned years ago how to rig the machine to play without paying—another perk of being the owner’s son.
“Okay. Pick a song.” He held up a finger in warning, but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, ruining any chance of getting his way. “One song.”
“We’ll see about that.” She flipped through the selection until her face lit up and she eagerly pushed the buttons.
He waited, like a prisoner in the courtroom, and sagged with relief when a slow Righteous Brothers tune drifted out into the air. If she’d picked a fast song, he’d have shot himself.
“So, can you handle this or do you need a wingman?”
“No, I think I can handle this.” Jack wrapped his arms around her, swaying her slightly into a shallow dip. He chuckled at her wide-eyed expression and brushed his lips against her ear. “I think I’ve mastered the art of holding you close and finding a rhythm.”
She trembled against him, a thoroughly ego-boosting reaction, and he gained a little more confidence about how this would go. Kayla encircled his neck as they continued their easy movements. Every inch of her luscious body pressed against his and his cock responded in earnest. He wasn’t embarrassed; by now Kayla knew what she did to him. Her corresponding shiver and gentle rub against him confirmed her desire. It was what it was, and they didn’t waste energy fighting it.
“I bet you have lots of memories like this.” Her voice was dreamy, muffled against his neck.
“No. I wasn’t the ladies man—that was Lucky.” When she scoffed, he insisted. “I had girlfriends but I wasn’t the one to put myself out there in front of a crowd like that. I was content to let Lucky and Teague fill that role.”
“You still prefer the shadows, the edges.”
“It suits me.” Jack hesitated. She’d laid herself bare, allowed him to see her in the worst of her pain and need without embarrassment. He’d tell her what she wanted to know. Kayla deserved that much.
“Crystal’s full of shit about most things, but she got one thing right. I was never like the rest of my family. They loved attention and none of them ever met a stranger.” Kayla looked up, her face resting against his shoulder. The effort to speak made his voice sound like gravel. “I was the quiet Cantrell and everyone felt compelled to comment on it. I’m not easy with people and the constant focus on it made me feel like the outsider.”
“It wasn’t easy for you.”
“No, but a lot of people had it worse. My family just wanted me to be happy.”
“And that meant…what?”
“Stepping up as sheriff when my dad retired.”
“But you went into law enforcement as a career. Why not here?”
“I didn’t want to deal with the continued comparison to my family. My dad was a great sheriff. I didn’t think I’d ever live up to that.”
“It’s funny”—Kayla toyed with the hair at his nape; the caress and the soft timbre of her voice made him melt—“you’re easy with me.”
“Yeah. How about that?” He looked at her beautiful face. Why was it so different with her? Every conclusion ended in a truth he was uncomfortable pursuing. “When I went to college at Virginia Tech, it was easier to blend into the crowd, just have a few selective friends and ease out of the small-town spotlight. But when I went into the Marines it all fell into place for me.”
“In what way?”
“I went into Recon and suddenly I was in a job where being quiet, blending into the shadows, was an asset, a necessity. After spending hours in a deer stand in the woods, lying in the desert sand waiting for my kill target was a piece of cake.”
“So you found where you belong?”
“I don’t know about belonging.” He hesitated, the answer not as clear as he once thought it was. “I fit in there. I didn’t stick out.”
“And the FBI?”
“It was easy going undercover. Becoming someone else was easier than being me.” The admission slipped out, but it was the truth.
“Sounds to me like you’re the one hiding in plain sight.” Kayla gasped, her expression horrified. She struggled to get out of his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…that was bitchy.”
Jack tightened his hold, kissing away the worry lines on her forehead.
“No. You’re right.”
“But—”
“You’re right.” Jack held her tight, moving slowly to music that
had ended minutes before. They swayed together in the silence, their own rhythm taking over and guiding them through the steps. Her hair drifted silkily against the skin of his cheek and he inhaled her fresh scent, letting it keep him anchored in this time and place.
“Are you the real Jackson?” Her voice was quiet but laced with doubt. “Or are you just being what the job requires? Who you think I require?”
“No.” He pulled her back from his chest, peering down. Later, when she hated him for lying to her about the arrangement with her father, she would have this one truth. “This is the real Jack. Always with you—even that first night.”
She stared at him. He’d faced down all kinds of dangerous assholes and never before had to work so hard to maintain eye contact. Finally, Kayla nodded and her lips twitched up at the corner in amusement.
“So, ‘Real Jackson’”—she reached up and traced the edge of his T-shirt, sending a shiver up his spine—“you want to take me home?”
Jack brushed a kiss across her lips, dipping in to taste the sweetness of her mouth. He smiled as she slowly opened her eyes, desire giving them a hazy, unfocused expression.
“I would love to take you home.”
Chapter Ten
They were on borrowed time.
Michaela didn’t need Jackson to tell her that her stalker would strike again any minute. And when he did, Jackson would catch him and head back to DC and out of her life. But tonight he was hers.
Upon leaving the diner, Jackson slipped back into cop mode. He’d been quiet and focused on their surroundings until the moment he’d fastened the last lock on her door and turned on the alarm system. Michaela had reached for him then, leading him back to her bedroom, where they undressed, neither touching until they came together in a tender embrace of limbs, skin, and mouths on her bed.
By unspoken agreement, they took it slow, savoring each other in the silent semidarkness of her room. Propped up against pillows, she watched as Jackson pressed kisses along the skin of her feet and calves. He was splayed out at her feet, his muscles shadowed in the light of the side-table lamp, his half-hard erection lying against his stomach. He was beautiful, mouthwatering. She shivered as his tongue traced the line of her calf muscle up to the back of her knee.
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