HERO Force Boxset Books 1-8

by Amy Gamet

  He shifted in his seat. He was already sporting wood from sitting so close to her, his mind running free of its reins from the alcohol he’d consumed. This was Jessa his arm was brushing up against, Jessa who was staring so intently at him, Jessa who was like a siren screaming for his attention.

  And she had it. She’d always had it.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” she asked.

  He nearly spit out his whiskey and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “No.”

  She smirked and bumped against him. “You don’t take women out to dinner and a movie? Invite them to spend the night?”

  The physical contact and the intimacy of the question made adrenaline burst into his bloodstream. “Sure.”

  “Well, that’s seeing someone.” She grinned.

  He stared into her eyes, needing her to understand.

  Her smile fell.

  “I don’t see them at all,” he said. It was the closest he’d come to crossing the line, as close as he’d allow himself to go without an invitation. He watched her reaction intently, like a poker player searching for a tell.

  She took a sip of her drink, the glass trembling in her hand. Her face flushed, the high color making her amber skin glow.

  “Let’s talk about you,” he said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “No.”

  “No dinners, no movies, no sleepovers?” He might have been copying her question, but his tone of voice was dripping with every implication he wanted to voice.

  She lifted her head and stared at the bar, her rib cage rising and falling with each breath. “No.”

  Jesus, she hasn’t been with anyone since Ralph.

  Blood rushed to his cock. He shifted on his barstool. It was too much, all of it. This woman. Her outfit. The little touches and bumps of her body into his. And she hadn’t had sex with anyone in years.

  She must be starving for the connection sex could bring, the physical release. She’d been grieving her husband, of course. But a woman like that would have every opportunity for love, and she’d taken none of them.

  She’s a mother. She’s busy, not sitting around wishing for a man.

  “The baby must take up a lot of your time,” he said, wondering again if she’d had a boy or a girl. He opened his mouth to ask, but she held up her hand.

  “I don’t want to talk about the baby. I came here to get away from all that.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why else did you come here, Jessa?”

  The air between them was thick. His hand clenched his glass on the bar, and he forced his grip to relax before it shattered. She looked nervous now. Her eyes dropped to her wineglass and she was clearly considering her answer.

  “I was tired of packing,” she said. “A little sad thinking about leaving the place I’ve lived for years. I figured a drink would be nice.”

  That was a lie. He’d been trained to tell. She’d been packing, all right, but something else had sent her in search of him, and he wanted — needed — to know what it was.

  “You knew I would be here,” he said.

  Her fingers tightened on her wineglass. “I’m lonely, Jax.”

  Fuck.

  He felt like he’d been sucker-punched, her words like some sort of attack on his restraint.

  She turned toward him fully, resting her hand on his forearm again, the sensation traveling up his arm and down lower, lighting up his senses.

  “It’s been so hard,” she said. “I’ve been by myself for so long, and then today you were there and…I thought maybe…”

  The pulse in his groin was throbbing now.

  She licked her lips. “Maybe we could be together.”

  Be together?

  She wanted to spend the night with him.

  No. He must have misunderstood. She was looking for conversation, a friend to catch up on old times with, nothing more, and he worked to reign in his enthusiasm. She stared at him, waiting for a reaction, but he had no idea what to say.

  She blew out air and pushed her wine away. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” She stood up and his hand shot out, grabbing her forearm tightly.

  “Wait.” Beneath his grip, she was warm and soft and too much of what he wanted. He held on tightly, his thumb stroking her tentatively. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  She pulled her arm away. “Never mind.”

  “Jessa, if you’re saying you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here for you. And if you need a shoulder to cry on, you’re always welcome to use mine.”

  She didn’t look up.

  “But that’s not what you’re asking me for, is it?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and he touched her chin to tip her face up. “Open your eyes.”

  A beat passed before she complied, her eyes open to his, the truth shining in their glassy depths. She was asking him to make love to her.

  He took a quick breath in. “Let’s get out of here.”

  2

  Jessa walked down the hotel hallway with Jax, the smell of whiskey trailing behind him like exhaust. She felt disconnected from her body, as if it were someone else who’d asked him to take her here, someone else who was going to have sex with him and hold his seed inside her tightly with a wish and a prayer.

  Please let me get pregnant tonight.

  She couldn’t believe she was going through with this.

  She’d been so angry when he showed up at her safe little house this morning and threw the most horrible event of her past on the floor like a hunter dropping a bloody carcass. And he thought she’d be happy! After all this time, he finally killed the bastard who’d murdered Ralph, as if that scum of the earth hadn’t deserved to die long before her beloved husband.

  So she’d slammed the door after he left and sunk to the floor, a puddle of emotion and grief. Hugging herself, she thought of how much that man had taken from her. The love of her sweet Ralph. The joy she’d always experienced in her husband’s presence. She didn’t smile anymore, didn’t laugh—not the way she did then.

  Worst of all, he’d taken away her child, her identity as a pregnant woman waiting with a happy heart to become a mother.

  He’d taken away love. He’d left only darkness.

  Her skin grew chilled as time passed, the room getting darker. Then an idea appeared in her mind like a single, welcoming light after a cold, dark night.

  Jax can give me a baby.

  It was horrible, really, for even in that moment she had no intention of allowing him to be a father. And while she never would have condoned keeping a baby’s paternity a secret, she had no moral qualms about keeping a baby from Jax Andersson.

  He owed her two people. She’d only be taking back one.

  But you’ll have to sleep with him.

  Since Ralph, the idea of sex with anyone else held no appeal. Where she’d once been a very sensual being, now she was dead inside, all dried up like mud in a desert.

  It would be hard enough to have sex, but with Jax? She had so much anger tied up in her head with that man, would she even be able to do it?

  It’s not like I’ll enjoy it.

  He was an odd man, mechanical and emotionally stiff. She’d heard him called the Tin Man, and laughed because the description was so perfectly coined. He was hardly one to inspire feeling or emotion, which was perfect, as she surely didn’t want either one.

  But oh, how she wanted to be a mother.

  Jax opened the hotel room door, the sound of the deadbolt sliding home slamming her back to the present. She was standing in the overly bright hallway, about to sleep with a man she hated.

  Fear had her taking a step back, but Jax guided her in front of him with his hand on her back. She fought the urge to wriggle away from his touch.

  You want a baby, don’t you? And who better to give you one than the man who killed the last one?

  She felt a visceral ache in her lower abdomen as she did whenever she thought of her misca
rriage, coming just a day and a half after she learned of Ralph’s death. There was no doubt in her mind it was her grief that had ended her baby’s life, sending her precious little boy straight to heaven to be with his father, and bypassing Jessa entirely.

  It was Jax who sent Ralph on that mission. Jax who had the intel that told him it wasn’t safe, Jax who stayed behind while her husband paid the price for the other man’s bad decision.

  The room smelled stale and the air conditioner was blasting cold air. She felt exposed in her spaghetti-strap top.

  Not as exposed as you’re about to be.

  She began to panic. She wished she could sit down.

  He turned to her, and she could feel the heat coming off him, the electric heat that threatened to overtake her. Even in the dim light he was so much larger than she was, his body taller and wider at the shoulders, his quiet, hulking personality hiding a strength she’d always found intimidating.

  Plus the man didn’t talk. It was painful to get him to engage in any kind of conversation, so she’d worried over how she was going to get him up here.

  She needn’t have bothered.

  He took a step toward her and she jumped a little, the cold and her nerves jangling up inside her. Then his massive hands were on her upper arms, nearly reaching all the way around to meet at the other side, warmer than she wanted them to be.

  She was standing ramrod straight, fear holding her still. This was Jax, the man who’d been the sole focus of her hatred for two solid years, and she was going to have sex with him? What the hell had she been thinking? She shimmied her shoulders, wiggling away from his hands, and he let her go.

  “This was a bad idea,” she said. Tears were beginning to collect in the backs of her eyes, and she made a conscious effort to keep them there. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming here.”

  She thought of the child she so wanted to carry. I’m sorry, baby. I can’t do this, not even for you.

  “It’s okay.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not okay.” Maybe she should have had more alcohol. She hadn’t even finished one glass. She walked backwards toward the door.

  “You blame me for Ralph’s death.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  He walked toward her. “You blame me for his death, and you can’t be with me because you think you’d be betraying your husband.”

  “I need to go.”

  “But you can feel how much I want you, how desperate I am to touch you, and you need to be wanted like that again, touched by hands that long to stroke your skin, feel the weight of a man on top of you, holding you down.”

  Her chin came up slowly, his words resonating inside her, vibrating down into her secret places and making her come alive. She did want those things. She needed to feel like a desirable woman, needed to be with a man.

  But this man?

  “You need to feel like a woman again, even if it’s just for one night.” He closed the distance between them. “I can do that for you, Jessa. I want to do that for you.” He took her hand, the thick, strong fingers welcoming and warm.

  Human touch.

  It had been so long.

  Her eyes drifted closed. The sensation of connecting with him like this in the dark was dizzying, terrifying. He trailed his other hand up her other arm, his nails skimming her flesh, and she took a small step toward him, her eyes still closed. Her head lifted as if on a string.

  He kissed her, his lips light and gossamer on her mouth. The scent of alcohol was dangerous and new, and she opened her mouth to taste him. His hand clenched her upper arm and she felt the strength in his grip. A steady beat began to pulse between her legs, her jeans tight against her there as she began to swell with desire.

  You can’t enjoy this. This isn’t about sex, it’s about revenge.

  But he deepened their kiss, forcing her to open herself to him more, commanding her mouth to give and receive pleasure, and she hovered on the brink of fighting him or giving in.

  Her chance to change her mind was quickly passing her by. Her skin was hot and her traitorous body was desperate for this connection, egging her on and ramping up her desire even as her mind worked to tamp it back down.

  Her eyes popped open as Jax kissed down her neck, the smallest cry escaping from deep in her chest as he sucked lightly on her skin. She pushed his body away.

  “It’s okay to enjoy another man’s body, Jessa.”

  No, it’s not.

  She wanted to cry. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t contain the experience in some little box forged of hatred and steel. Sex was too personal, too important to her, and she’d forgotten how damn good it could feel. She couldn’t let Jax be the one to bring passion back into her life.

  “I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “Because you don’t want to be here, or because you do?”

  He walked backwards, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled her toward the bed, then sat down on its edge and pulled her onto his lap.

  His hands rubbed her legs, her hips, and held her tightly against him as he kissed her, his mouth demanding a response.

  When she hesitated, he pulled the covers back and dragged her beneath them. He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her tightly against him with a growl, his erection pressing into her upper abdomen. It felt good, so good to be wanted like this, but she held back, unable to respond to him any more than she already had.

  Then something changed.

  Jax slowed down.

  His kisses were now focused on her skin instead of her mouth, his hands massaging and scraping and slipping against her overly sensitized body. Every touch was like an assault on her good judgment, making her long to respond to him even more, and he wasn’t even touching her most intimate places.

  God, if he did that, she would be lost…

  His mouth moved back to hers, lightly kissing and cajoling her response, his tongue exploring and tasting.

  “Kiss me, Jessa,” he ground out against her mouth. “Kiss me and I’ll take off your shirt and touch you there.” She imagined his hands on her breasts, her nipples, his talented mouth lapping at her peaks. She wanted it so badly she was powerless to deny herself.

  The slightest sob escaped her as she kissed him back, her tongue reaching into his mouth, and the kiss exploded with fiery passion. He fitted his body between her legs and ground against her swollen sex, making her moan with pleasure.

  The sound of her response was brazen, making her freeze up. This wasn’t what she’d bargained for and was quickly getting out of control. Jax’s hands were slipping up under her slinky top and lifting it over her head, and she covered her breasts with her arms despite her longing for his touch.

  Jax braced himself on his arms and looked down at her.

  What did he see? Was it fear or desire?

  “Do you want to stop?” he asked.

  She forced her arms back down to her sides. “No.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Roll over.”

  She shot him a questioning look, but he only helped to flip her over. He sat on top of her legs, just below her derriere, and began to stroke her back.

  If his kisses and earlier touch had felt good, she was unprepared for the sensation of his hands on her back. It had been years since someone had touched her this way, years since she’d received physical pleasure from another human being, and she nearly purred out loud.

  She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her bottom through their jeans, but he took his time with her neck and shoulders, the muscles that lined her spine and the hungry flesh spread out before him.

  Her excitement was growing, no matter that she didn’t want it to, and she pressed her hips into the mattress to keep from arching her back in blatant invitation.

  But Jax had started a fire and she was powerless to control it. Every touch of his hands was its own temptation, the movements of her body totally bound to hi
s orchestration.

  When Jax reached around her and unbuttoned her jeans, she eagerly helped him pull them from her body, grateful her face was pressed against the mattress so he couldn’t see the desire flushing her face and chest. She was squirming beneath him now, her body desperate for his and her legs spreading apart.

  There was no denying her excitement, no way to prevent her pleasure, and she gave in to the sensation when Jax stroked her bottom and caught the strings of her thong, pulling it up and deeper into her crevice.

  She cried out.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He pressed his bare cock against her bottom. “You know how good it’s going to feel when I’m inside you?”

  His words made her pelvis curl toward her abdomen.

  “Get on your knees,” he commanded, and she did as she was told, her back arching so that her ass went high in the air, exposing herself to him, the thin panties the only barrier between their bodies.

  Jax squeezed her cheeks in his hands, kneading the thick flesh and whispering reverent praise. He traced the line between the folds of her sex with one skillful finger, lightly settling on the bud hidden between them.

  She wanted him to fuck her and get it over with, not draw it out like this and make her beg for him. But begging she was as he deftly teased her clitoris while pressing himself against her most sensitive places.

  “Please, Jax.”

  “Please, what?”

  “I need you inside me.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Roll over.”

  If she didn’t face him, she could keep some semblance of herself away from him. “No. I want you like this.”

  “I want to see you.”

  She was nearly there, the finish line in sight, so she did as he asked, surprised by the size and breadth of his glistening cock, standing at attention.

  He was bigger than her husband — the only other man she’d been with — and she wondered if he would hurt her. She let her eyes take in the rest of his body, so different from Ralph’s.

  Where her husband’s muscles had been defined and trim, Jax’s were big and bulging. He bent over her, nuzzling her neck, and her eyes closed once more. Then he was moving lower, taking her breast in his hand and squeezing it to a point before taking the whole of her nipple and areola into his mouth and sucking.