Runaway Girl

by Bailey, Tessa

  I don’t realize my fingers have stopped working until the spatula drops on the floor. And then I’m kissing him. Initiating without hesitation. Jason’s eyes flare, then close, his arms opening to greet me. Hold me tight. It’s the full-on movie kiss I’ve always dreamed about. He turns a little to give us privacy, resting the back of my head on his bicep. His mouth slants over mine in a slow roaming of tongues, his thumb sliding along my cheek. Dropping away. I feel him grip the counter against my hip and register how hard he’s clinging to it. His mouth is casual, but the rest of him is not. There is nothing casual about the deafening rap of his heart against my ear.

  Nothing about us is casual during an unplanned kiss in his kitchen. Or about how it makes me feel. Like I’m slipping into impossible territory.

  That thought forces me to break the kiss and step back.

  Dark eyes watch me go, that white-knuckled grip still on the counter.

  Searching for a way to break the tension, I seek out Birdie and find her covering her eyes with both hands. “Is it over?” she asks. “I’ve learned my lesson. Swear.”

  “Good. And yes, the threat has passed.” I clear the sex from my voice, highly aware of Jason moving behind me to take over dinner preparations, his energy snapping like a rubber band against my skin. “One lesson done, on to another.” A light bulb goes on over my head and I reach for my purse, taking out the flash cards tucked inside the inner pocket. “Only a week away from the pageant. Let’s do some question round prep.”

  Birdie throws up her hands dramatically. “Haven’t I been punished enough?” She makes an air bubble in her cheek. “Fine, maybe a couple. Just don’t ask me where I see myself in five years. I hate that one.”

  Relenting, I flip to the next card. “If you could wake up tomorrow and have gained one ability, what ability would you choose?”

  “Flying is the only answer. Everyone else is lying.” She taps her fingers on the table and I decide to let her off the hook with that informal answer. “What about you, Jason?”

  He only takes two seconds to respond. “The ability to be two places at once.” Silence passes while I read between the lines of that. “Naomi?”

  Same answer, I want to say. But it would lead to what ifs we can’t afford. “I was asked this question once during a pageant and I said I wanted the ability to always know the correct course of action that would benefit the greater good.” I blow out a breath. “What I really meant was…flying.”

  Our laughter fills the kitchen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ConspiracyCrowd.org

  Username: UrdadsMyFave69

  Fine, I’ll be serious, everyone. Calm down.

  Seriously, though. Has anyone checked Runaway Girl’s web history?

  I could really use some new porn suggestions.

  Naomi

  There is no way to get this kitchen any cleaner. I’ve scrubbed the counters and now I’m going to town on the small appliances. Dinner ended forty-five minutes ago, Birdie retreated to her room as soon as she ate her last bite, mumbling about homework. Jason cleared the table and helped me load the dishwasher. Then he vanished, too, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Does this mean he’s waiting for me to leave?

  My heart drops and I set the sponge carefully on the sink ledge, trying not to make a noise. If he’s waiting for me to take off, that would be fine. Fine. Just because we slept together this afternoon doesn’t mean it’s assumed I’m going to spend the night in his bed.

  Actually, sleeping in Jason’s bed is a terrible idea.

  It’s bad enough that I’m spontaneously kissing him and staying for dinner. Getting accustomed to his arms around me in the dark could be that final factor that makes leaving impossible. I definitely don’t need that. I don’t need to be a willing victim to my tipping point.

  What am I still doing here?

  Laughing semi-hysterically to myself, I pick up my purse and leave, my chin lifting higher with every step toward the chalet. Look at me! Doing this casual thing! Maybe we’ll see each other tomorrow. Maybe we won’t. It’s an honest-to-goodness mystery!

  I close the door behind me, refusing to acknowledge the pair of scissors opening and closing in my throat. Who wanted to have sex tonight? Not me, that’s for sure. I haven’t even really processed my shark encounter. I’ll just have a nice sit-down and let the excitement of the afternoon wash over me. Maybe I’ll go out for a run. The night is young—

  The door of my chalet swings open and Jason strides in, letting it bang off the wall. In the wake of the echo, he just keeps coming, stroking a hand over his beard. A giant, shirtless man on a mission. God help me, my vagina contracts with such force, I could juice a lemon.

  “I’m busy, Blackbeard,” I breathe, sinking and floundering. “What do you want?”

  Jason doesn’t answer me. I didn’t really think he would. Instead, he stoops down and throws me over his shoulder, turns and stomps for the door, kicking it shut behind us. The air expels from my lungs and I stutter through the beginnings of nine different protests. Except I’m smiling. I’m smiling at his dimpled lower back and flexing behind like I’ve lost my mind. Someone wants me enough to pick me up and take me. I’m wanted this badly and it’s better than I ever dreamed it could be, so I close my eyes and revel in it as we walk into the house.

  Moments later, we enter Jason’s bedroom and he lifts me from his shoulder, laying me in the center of his no-frills, king-sized bed. Last time I was in here, it was shrouded in shadows and I barely got a chance to look around. I want to catalogue every single item in the space, but he’s above me, knees planted on either side of my thighs, taking up my entire universe. “What do I want?” Absently I notice the scent of lavender and wrinkle my nose, but he demands my attention when he presses a hand to the lowest point of my belly, dragging it up between my breasts, flattening it over my heart. “I want back inside of you, beauty queen. Want it like I’ve never wanted anything.” His touch shifts and a thumb drags over my nipple, blurring my vision. “Barely made it through dinner after that kiss.”

  “I want you back inside me, too,” I whisper, lost in the feeling of being trapped between soft and hard, curls of hunger heating and twisting in my stomach and thighs. Lord, I just want him to press me down and never let me up.

  “Yeah? Why did you leave, then?” He takes my breast fully in his hand, massaging it rhythmically, creating a wicked thrum south of my belly button. “Give me a glimpse of what goes on in that head of yours, baby.”

  “You go first.”

  With a sigh, he lies on his side to my right, his hand continuing its mission of arousal by ghosting over my breasts, only squeezing when I begin to squirm. “I’ll admit to some wishful thinking this morning before the dive. That’s why I had the, uh…”

  “Protection?”

  “Yeah. Had it for a while with our name on it, but it’s not usually stashed in my gear bag.” He leans down and breathes against my hard left nipple, brushing his lips over it and making me shudder. “Remembered the condom, forgot to clean my room.” Another brush of lips, but this time they’re smiling. “Maybe I was afraid to hope you’d ever end up here.”

  Light, languorous amusement dances inside me and I thread my fingers through his hair. “You were cleaning your room for me?”

  He angles himself away so I can view his efforts. “Even snuck a candle out of Birdie’s room when she was brushing her teeth. If she notices, I’ll never live it down.”

  The bed shakes with my silent laughter. “Your secret is safe with me. And it smells lovely.” Knowing he went to such an effort makes me want to roll over and squeal into the bedclothes like a teenager. Although, I was never made to feel like this as a teen, was I? Never like this. “I thought you were trying to send me a hint,” I say, shaking my head. “Like today was nice, but it was enough.”

  His jaw flexes. “And now you know how ridiculous that is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Next time, talk to me.”

&
nbsp; “Next time, tell me you’re just tidying up,” I murmur, knowing full well there might not be a next time. He’s having the same thought, his expression tightening. But I don’t want to lose the moment, so I search for a subject change. “I liked watching you today. The water is your second home. You were standing in front of the ocean and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen you there before. Like you’ve been walking out of frame the whole time I’ve known you.”

  “Out of frame. Yeah. That’s how it felt for a long time after I got home.” He seems to catch himself, brow furrowing. “That’s how it feels, I mean. When I’m away from the water. Even now, taking strangers out on a dive is not the same as fulfilling an actual purpose while I’m down there. Carrying out orders.”

  I graze his scalp with my fingernails, moving them in lazy circles. “When you resurface, does it feel like you forgot something?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly it.” His gaze homes in on me. “Not today, though. I couldn’t have gotten further from that feeling. I had everything I needed.”

  My breath gets trapped in my throat. He can’t say these things to me. How will I live with these words in my head? “I was happy to have all my limbs,” I say, trying to dispel the intensity between us. It doesn’t work, but he relents after a hard stare, leaning in to kiss behind my ear, his hand gathering the hem of my dress in a fist. Dragging it higher. Slowly.

  “I know what you’re doing,” buzzes his voice against my sensitive skin.

  Cool air creeps up the inside of my thighs as he exposes them, calling attention to how damp my panties already are. “What am I doing?”

  “Trying to keep this light.” His warm, calloused hand glides up my inner thigh, his teeth traveling along the curve of my ear. “But there’s nothing light about us, baby. Is there?”

  I shiver. “It doesn’t feel like it,” I confess.

  His mouth finds mine, tempting me into a long kiss. Thorough enough to burn down all my weakened defenses, even if his hand didn’t wedge firmly against my core, palming me there, pressing down on my clit. “Then let it be heavy while we have it,” he pulls back slightly to rasp. “Okay?”

  As if I could say no to anything he asks me right now. And I want to say yes. I want to throw myself into this risky emotional situation and give no thought about how I’m going to climb out. I want to feel every single thing he’s offering and damn the consequences. “Yes.”

  He grips me between the legs, pressing his tongue into my mouth and licking away my moan. “Good girl.” To my absolute dismay, he trails his hand up to my hips, leaving my flesh aching and clenching. Needing him. “Tell me what a day looks like for you in Charleston.”

  “Uh…” I shift on the bed, trying to get comfortable—so not happening—frowning at his smirk. “Before I left or when I go back?”

  “When you go back,” he says thickly. “Leave him out of it.”

  I feel the command in my womb it strikes so deep. This is not the first time Elijah has invaded a moment between us, but it is the first time since we gave in fully to the attraction. To the connection we share. “There is a gala coming up,” I say, clearing the rust from my voice. “There’s always a gala because my mother is involved in several charities, as am I. Community outreach efforts, memorial funds and landmark restoration. Funny though, all these charities seem to raise money by having thousand-dollar-per-plate dinners. We never really get our hands dirty, so to speak.”

  He strums my hip with his thumb. “You sound like you want to change that.”

  “I do. I…can.” Saying it out loud makes it concrete, makes it real, and while I enjoy the feeling of purpose and know most of the charities are for worthy causes, I also know I’m going to find it hard to be passionate about the same things when I go back to Charleston. “Anyway, there will be a dress fitting,” I say, and God, it sounds so foreign to the life I’ve been living for well over a month. “Then the Naomi Clemons apology tour will commence. I’ll need to say sorry to my relatives and bridesmaids. The wedding planner and catering company.” An unwanted laugh flutters in my throat. “My hand is going to cramp from writing notes.”

  I leave out the most important apology I need to make. To my ex-fiancé.

  Jason watches me silently. “And when the tour is over?”

  Lying this way with him watching me so intently is the ultimate exposure, but I’ve felt more comfortable telling someone what I want. What I need. Is it because I’ll only be with him another week, or has he become so important to me without me noticing the trajectory we were on? “I want to keep coaching. Girls like Birdie, though. Not girls like me who had the opportunities and training from a young age.” A squeeze of my hip encourages me to keep going. “I was thinking…well, I was thinking there must be girls everywhere who would love to try competing but don’t know where to start. Or there could be money issues. Not everyone has a generous big brother.”

  “And I only had to remortgage the house twice,” he says, deadpan, before his expression sobers. “It was worth it. She’s…woken up since you got here. You could do that for other people, Naomi. You enrich everything. You do it naturally as breathing.”

  “Jason,” I say shakily, my heart pumping like I ran ten circles around the block. “I know you said to let it be heavy, but you say these things a-and it’s going to be so hard.”

  His eyes flash. “That’s the first time you admitted it’s going to be rough to leave.”

  “Do you want it to be rough for me?”

  “I can’t help wanting to stick inside you.” He pulls me tight against him, my side to his chest, his voice low in my hair. “You’re going to stick in me. No help for it.”

  It takes me a few moments of measured breathing to center myself. I’m only halfway there when I say, “What will a day look like for you when Birdie graduates and you go back…”

  “To wherever they send me?” He eases back, a line forming between his brows. “It doesn’t always look the same. There’s a strict order to everything we do, and some weeks, it’s just an endless cycle of surveillance shifts or patrols. But if we’re on a mission, decisions are often made on the fly. Shit never fails to hit the fan. Plans change in seconds. There might be a pick-up time and coordinates where we’ll meet the helo. It won’t wait for us. It can’t, most times, thanks to a volatile environment. Or enemy fire. So we’ve got a limited amount of time to complete the mission and get our asses to the pick-up, or we’re up shit creek.”

  Jason’s explanation rolls so easily off his tongue that he has no idea my metaphorical jaw has dropped. I can’t move as he casually explains the danger he faces on a daily basis. Lord, I’m an absolute idiot that the magnitude of life-threatening danger in his profession never fully occurred to me. I’m frozen as he continues on, his hand roaming up and down my thigh as if he’s not devastating me with every word from his mouth.

  “Other days I might work solo. Kind of comes with the territory of being a diver. Hours of silence seem to pass while I’m swimming, rationing my air. More silence when I hit shore and scout the target location for—” He finally notices what must be total horror on my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I blurt, smacking my hands over my burning eyes. “I guess I didn’t realize how easy it would be for something to happen to you.”

  Jason tries to pry my hands away, but I resist. He sighs. “Christ. Not that easily, Naomi. I’m good at what I do.” A beat passes. “But yeah, the possibility is there. Great men, friends of mine were lost and they were damn good, too.”

  I drop my hands away and let him see my unspilled tears. “I don’t think I’m going to be comforted by battle stories anymore.”

  His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I like your stories.”

  My chin goes stubborn, but I feel it wobbling. “Too bad.”

  Jason’s eyes shut, a muscle working in his cheek. “You’re in my bed crying over something possibly happening to me, Naomi.” His lids lift and his mouth descends on mine, pausing
an inch away, his harsh voice resonating deep in my belly. “Never complain to me again about making it too heavy.”

  This is it. This is the kiss I’ll think about for decades to come, maybe longer. I can feel it ruining me with every mash of his lips against mine, every seeking sweep of his tongue. The taste of tears. The unsteady breath that drifts up his throat that slides down mine. I’m getting every ounce of man. His passion, his frustration, his lust, his fierce spirit. How he feels about me. It’s being communicated with the sounds rumbling in his chest, half growling beast, half dying man. It’s almost too much to withstand, until his fingers tuck into my panties and begin a determined massage of my clit, as if he knew I needed some of my attention diverted before my heart exploded.

  Yes, my heart.

  That brief acknowledgment that I’m in too deep is all I’m afforded before need covers everything in an avalanche. Jason is still plundering my mouth and now his fingers do the same to my flesh, his thumb rubbing laps around the sensitized nub he’s become an expert on in such a short time. Lord. I drag my mouth away from his on a gasp, looking down my body at the scene we create. His thick, flexing arm bent over my hips, muscles shifting while his hand works inside my underwear. My thighs are spread in a shameless V, both of them jerking when he pushes two fingers inside me, his mouth getting busy on the side of my neck.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. You’re everywhere at once. I can’t…” He sinks his teeth into me and I whimper, something sparking in my chest when he licks the spot and makes a gruff, protective sound. “Please, I need you.”

  Jason eases his fingers out of me and I cry out, panting, aching as he rises to his knees, unbuttoning his board shorts and shoving them down. “I can’t remember when I didn’t need you,” he says, looking me over head to toe, as if deciding where to start his meal. “I love the way you scream when I fuck you, but we can’t have that tonight. I should cover your mouth and take it slow, but you’ve been working me up for months. Slow isn’t happening the first time I take you in my bed. I’ve been lying here tortured.”