by Amy Gamet
The other woman stepped beside her, looking at Jackie in the mirror. “You’re very welcome. You look gorgeous. When I come back from the dead, I’m totally borrowing that dress.”
“It’s the lipstick that really looks terrific,” Jackie said, nodding at Emily, and the girl beamed with pride.
“Do you want me to come back in the morning, or do you think you’ve got it?” Jessa asked.
Jackie exhaled a shaking breath. “I think I’m good. Like riding a bicycle, I guess.”
“Well, one day when this is all over, you’ll have to come by the house and join us for dinner.” Jessa hugged her. “And bring Razorback.”
Jackie felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t intended to give so much away in conversation, but there was no reason to deny it. “I’d like that very much.”
“He’s a lot like my husband, Jax. A man of few words, and not all of them kind. But he’s a good man, and I like him. I always have.” She gave Jackie a squeeze. “Now I need to get out of here and get little miss sweet cheeks to bed.”
Jackie thanked her and saw them out, then stood beside the door to Razorback’s room with nervous anticipation. She wanted him to see it—wanted him to strip it off her, more like—but she was keenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t knocked since they’d arrived. She reached for the knob and turned it. “Nothing to it but to do it.”
The second door leading into his room was already open.
26
“Can I come in?”
He was lying shirtless on the bed, a pair of sweatpants hugging his hips and legs, the scent of a shower hanging in the air. His eyes moved slowly down her body, following her curves and roaming back up again. “Damn.”
The tempting sight of his wide, muscular chest and trim waist led her to the prominent bulge just below his waistband. “Damn, yourself.”
“You look great.”
“Jessa helped me. She was really nice.” She spun around slowly. “Think I can wear this to a beheading?”
“You’ll be the prettiest one there.”
She moved to the bed, lifting the hem so she could put her knee on the mattress and crawl to him. “Are you going to sleep in here all by yourself?”
“Not if I can help it. Come here.” He kissed her deeply before gently tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and sending a bolt of desire straight to her core. He moved to pull her down on the mattress but she pushed him away.
“Give me one second.” She stood, deftly unzipping the back of the dress and pulling the sleeves down her arms, then racing into her room to put the dress back on a hanger. Wearing only her underwear, she came back and kneeled on the edge of the bed. “I’m ready.”
He sat up with a roar, those arms of steel wrapping around her midsection as his mouth found the hollow of her throat. He pulled her down to the mattress, pinning her beneath his weight, and she squealed.
It felt so good to be under him, her legs quickly straddling his hips, his covered member fitted tightly against her heat. The first time they’d made love, she’d been reaching for something, desperate to hold on to what she barely understood and knew she couldn’t have. But this time was different.
She knew this man. She’d seen him risk his life to defend her, fight for her protection, and rescue her and Selena from a deadly situation. They’d shared a difficult journey that was pivotal to her life. He was a rock, a capable ally, a steadfast friend, and a gifted lover she suddenly realized she didn’t want to lose.
What would happen after the convention?
She pushed the thought out of her head, fearing the answer would spoil what they had right now. She rolled him onto his back, trailing kisses down his chest and abdomen before lifting the waistband over his growing erection and pulling his pants down his legs. The head of his cock was glistening, and she took it in her mouth, lavishing it with her tongue.
He inhaled sharply.
She explored his length and the sensitive sac beneath it, gently rolling him in her hand before kissing his entire shaft. He looked even bigger up close, her fingers barely touching when she encircled his girth with first one hand, then the next, leaving a manageable amount for her eager mouth.
She took him deep, loving it when his hand grazed the back of her head, begging her to continue. He pulled it away and she lifted her head to reassure him. “It’s okay.”
He moaned deep in his throat and swore, his fingers knotting in her hair as she again opened her mouth to him, steady pressure holding her in place as she welcomed his length and gently sucked. She wanted to be his fantasy, to offer everything he dreamed of in bed, to bring this man of supreme strength to his knees with his need for her.
He withdrew slightly and thrust into her mouth, breath hissing between his teeth. “I’ve got to stop,” he ground out, and she knew he was close to orgasm. She sat up, those hungry brown eyes now boring into hers. He flipped her on the bed, tugging down the straps of her bra, then the band itself, grabbing the sides of her underwear on his way down, and leaving her completely naked.
His hands raked up her shins and thighs, his arms spreading her legs as he settled between them and kissed the inside of her thigh. Her hips lifted off the bed in anticipation of what would come next, his mouth taking a lazy route to her most sensitive place, trailing kisses as he went. Then his mouth was upon her, the sweet touch of his tongue making her heady with desire.
His fingers stroked her tender flesh as he worked magic on her clitoris, a frenzy building inside her, a desperate need for him to fill her. “Please…”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside of me. Now.”
In a flash, he moved to the bedside table, retrieving a condom and sheathing himself before climbing on top of her.
“I want to be on top,” she said, trying to flip him over.
“Want to fight for it?”
The idea of wrestling with him for control was even more erotic than having it. “Yes.”
He pushed at her opening to her body. “On your mark, get set…” He filled her with one hard thrust, so deeply she cried out. His eyes glinted. “Go.”
She lifted her hips in an attempt to flip over, the motion met by an onslaught of thrusts that left her head rolling on the pillow. But she was competitive by nature, the desire to win stronger even than the fight for pleasure. Her hands came up his sides and she tickled him, easily rolling him when his body bowed and he laughed.
Now she was on top, sitting upright, her hips racing with need. She arched backwards, bracing herself on the bunched muscles of his legs as she bucked, his cock stroking the sensitive spot inside her.
With a burst of movement, he grabbed her and pushed her down, firmly holding her beneath him. The power play took away her control, but being trapped was surprisingly erotic. She was going over the edge, sensation building to a high crest that cascaded over her nerve endings and dropped her, letting her fall freely through the air.
A deep moan vibrated in his chest but didn’t stop, the force of his thrusts not subsiding. Pressure began to build up in her again. “I win,” he growled.
She wanted to fight but had been stripped of the ability to do anything except absorb the gift his body was giving her. She reached behind him and dug her nails into his ass, spurring him on. She knew what would send her flying again. “I want to get on my knees.”
He moved off her, rolling her with his hands before she could do it herself and lifting her hips up. “Jackie,” he ground out, one hand caressing the swell of her hip. “So beautiful.” Then he was inside her, the angle driving her crazy.
Her head was on the pillow, his name on her lips. Sex had never been like this, each thrust perfection, from his ample size and big hands to the way his body stroked inside her. A key in a lock. An amazing combination.
She arched her back and lifted her head, a fierce orgasm rioting through her body and making her cry out. Her pelvis curled in as her muscles fisted around him, wave after wave of pleasure flowing
through her.
His pace quickened, his final thrusts prolonging her sensations before he joined her over the edge into darkness.
27
She slept half the night, waking to him kissing her neck and slowly moving to her mouth. When was the last time she’d been kissed like this?
Never.
She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his hard torso and giving him better access to her mouth. His lips were full and sensuous, and he tasted faintly of spice and mint. A soft sound of pleasure came from the back of her throat as her nails fingered the hair at his nape and she kissed the side of his neck.
She was struck by how vital these feelings were to living—really living—and how she never again wanted to live her life without them.
Her eyes opened.
It wasn’t just the sex she wanted in her life, it was Ian.
The future was something they hadn’t discussed, the potential for a real relationship. But she suddenly realized they were already in one, and she desperately wanted it to continue.
Her stare settled on his face, his wide hands spanning her lower back, caressing the muscles along her spine before moving lower to lift her ass and fit her tightly against him.
The intensity of their stare was more intimate than his touch. In the dim golden light spilling from the window, she saw one patch of altered skin led to another, the surface both silky and rough, and she brought her hand up to touch his face.
This man had paid a heavy price for his country, and she was struck by the difference between the two men she’d held in her arms who claimed to love America.
Only one of them was a hero.
She lightly kissed his scarred cheek, moving slowly past his eye to kiss a large patch of scarred skin before returning to his mouth and kissing him deeply with her own. She was savoring him, tasting his sacrifice, wanting to drink him up like an antidote to everything that had gone wrong before this moment.
He pulled her hand away from his face. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t.”
“It’s a part of you.”
He pulled back. “It’s ugly.”
“Is that what you see?”
“That’s what everyone sees.”
“Not me. I look at your face and I see a hero, a warrior. You’re beautiful.”
He sighed, dropping his arms and sitting up. “You really know how to kill a mood.”
She sat up. “By telling you I admire you and what you stand for?”
“By patronizing me.”
“Patronizing you?”
“Yes. I have a mirror. I can see. Nothing about this face is beautiful. Don’t treat me like a charity case who needs to feel better, Jackie.”
“I wasn’t! I—”
He laughed without humor. “That’s exactly what you were doing.” He stood.
“I meant what I said. Those scars are a testament to who you are as a person.”
He put his hands up and backed away. “All right, you know what? Let’s just forget about it.” He picked his sweatpants up off the floor. “It’s getting late.”
“Ian.” She got up and crossed to him, reaching to touch his face, but he pushed her hand away.
“I said stop.”
She frowned, watching as he pulled on his pants, another barrier between them. “You’re shutting me out. Over this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I wasn’t talking, I was touching.”
“Don’t do that, either. Don’t even look at it.” He pulled a shirt from a cart similar to the one in her room, tugging the material over his head. “You’re always staring. You think I don’t notice? Like it doesn’t matter to me?”
The scars had been in front of her all along, but now she was seeing the wound. “I never tried to hide it. Why does it upset you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? I walk around with the worst day of my life where my face should be, and you’re asking why it upsets me when you stare at the scars?”
That did make her sound rather insensitive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“You should get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
It was her turn to laugh. They’d just been snuggled in his bed for the past four hours. “You’re kicking me out?”
“You’re the one who wanted separate rooms.”
It was tempting to retreat, but she couldn’t let a misunderstanding be the reason. “Well, I don’t anymore. This is a ridiculous argument—”
“It isn’t an argument, it’s my life.” He shook his head. “Don’t you get that? I live in a world outside of yours, with my own problems.”
“So then tell me what they are. I want to know what you’re thinking. I’ll listen to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you.”
I care about you.
The absurdity of the words and his certain rejection stopped her cold. She didn’t know he felt this way about his face, didn’t know anything about him. The man she thought he was wouldn’t be saying these things to her, wouldn’t be shutting her out over something that was so unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
“Cowboy was right,” he said. “I should’ve had another one of the guys take over when we left Texas.”
His words were like a door slamming in an empty room. He wished he wasn’t even here, and the ease with which he did so hurt her deeply. She was naked while he was clothed. She was cold and alone, he pushing her out of his life with an efficiency that spoke of great practice.
She wished she could rewind time. “I can’t make it better for you, Ian. I can’t fix what the world has taken away. But I won’t pretend not to see, and you shouldn’t ask me to.”
He met her stare, his face expressionless. “Look, it’s all right. Okay? No big deal.” He looked away. “You should get some sleep.”
“That’s it? You’re kicking me out, just like that?”
“It’s late, Jackie.”
She reached for her panties and bra, her mind going numb as she walked to the door. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said quietly.
He opened the door wider, and she walked back through it. “Good night,” he said.
She hesitated. This wasn’t really happening. Razorback hadn’t really just asked her to leave and shut her out in the time it took to brush his teeth. She opened her mouth to protest, to fight for what she wanted, to make him see—but the door clicked shut behind her.
She was alone.
It was the night before she would destroy her former husband before his allies, friends, and the American public, and she was worried about Ian Rhodes. She blinked several times, refusing to cry for the man who didn’t want to be near her, who would rather wallow in despair than accept a new beginning.
She turned off the light and climbed between cold sheets, reminding herself of what was truly important. Safety. Selena. Creating a home. She didn’t need Razorback. She was a strong, independent woman. She was used to being alone.
28
Jackie had barely slept, her heart broken and her emotions wrecked. When the sound of a distant siren had her sitting up and startled, she gave up completely and got dressed for the day.
Finding a pair of tinted glasses was her first priority, and the early hour made it safer to venture out. The political world was a small one, and too many people in town for the convention might recognize her. A drugstore around the corner from the hotel had some, then she’d gotten herself a bagel and coffee before heading back to her room.
But she came up short in the lobby, her feet stilling beneath her at the thought of rejoining Razorback. More than anything, she wanted to get away from him today.
So why do I have to bring him?
Her life wasn’t in danger. She was going there to be seen, to capture the attention of the news media and crush Doug McGrath in a very public way. He wouldn’t be able to fight back against that, not ph
ysically, anyway.
Razorback certainly wasn’t coming along for moral support. On the contrary, his presence would be upsetting. Sap her confidence. She needed to focus on the task at hand, not worry about him and her feelings and his distorted view of himself.
She picked a private corner of the lobby to sit down and pulled out her cell phone, quickly finding the number of a network affiliate station in town. It took some convincing to get the news desk to patch her through to the network anchor here for the convention, but the promise of an exclusive on a scandal that would knock Doug McGrath out of the running before midnight was enough to do the trick. The reporter was in the hotel right next door and came in the lobby just a few minutes later.
She gestured for him to take a seat. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Gough. What I’m about to tell you is strictly off the record. I don’t want it getting out before tonight. Do I have your word?”
“It’s mine if I want it, exclusive?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’re off the record.”
Nerves rattled her stomach. “Do you remember when Doug McGrath was the governor of California, and his wife’s car went into the Pacific Ocean?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Our investigative news magazine program did a special on it years ago. It’s being rerun tonight. What happened to Jacqueline McGrath? A lot of suspicious things about the accident that killed her. Do you have information about her death?”
“She didn’t die.” She took off her glasses, his eyes first narrowing, then going wide.
His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. You’re Jacqueline McGrath.”
“I go by my maiden name these days. Desjardins.”
He took out a small pad of paper and a pen. “This is unbelievable. Explain this to me. What happened that night?”
“My husband’s campaign manager tried to kill me by running my car off a cliff into the ocean. But he had an attack of conscience and pulled me out of the water.”
