by Kit Rocha
Cool. Friendly.
It all fell apart when he opened the door—shirtless, with bandages on his side and wrapped around his upper arm.
"Oh, God." She reached out, her fingertips hovering just shy of his arm. "Are you okay?"
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I told them not to tell you."
Lili jerked her hand away, stung so badly she didn't think before speaking. "Why not?"
"Because of this." He stepped back and gestured to the basket, then to her face. "Because you'd worry about me, about this, and I can't—" He broke off and looked away. "I can't let you worry about me, Lili. Not right now."
It should have hurt, but he was hurting, and it strengthened her resolve. "You can't stop me."
His voice softened, and he opened his arms. "I know. Come here."
Without hesitating, she wrapped her free arm gently around him. "Tell me if I hurt you."
He took the basket from her other hand and dropped it to a low table beside the door. "I'm not weak. I won't break."
"Weak people don't break," she whispered, tracing the edge of the bandage around his arm. His skin was warm above it, clean and smooth and unmarked. "Strong people do."
He slid both arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. For several heartbeats, he only stood there, breathing deeply. Then he shook his head. "I haven't been straight with you. Before anything else happens, I need to be. I need to tell you something."
"Anything, Jared."
His grip on her loosened just enough for him to pull back and study her face. "What do you know about me and the O'Kanes?"
"That you've known Ace for a long time." And that no one else seemed to know him at all. "That's it, really."
"True enough," he confirmed. "That's how it was for a long time, but not anymore."
The words were firm, his eyes serious. His hands trembled the tiniest bit. She let the words sink in, let their meaning follow.
He'd only been friends with Ace. But...
Not anymore.
She followed his arm down to his wrist and pulled it up between them. "But you're not an O'Kane."
"I don't have the ink." He twisted his wrist, caught her hand, and tugged it to his chest. "It wouldn't really fly in Eden, after all. And that's where I'll be—gathering intel for Dallas."
"Oh." She spanned her fingers wide, over the only tattoo he did have, but she couldn't even focus on the pattern. All she could hear was the word he hadn't said, the dangerous word that had lurked beneath every gentle warning.
Spy.
"Oh," Jared echoed with a sigh. "I should have told you. I should have told you before...everything."
Oddly, it made her smile. "That wouldn't make you a very good spy."
His expression remained sober. Grave. "Maybe not, but it might have made me a better person."
He was giving her a chance to leave, but not sending her away. And, in the end, the truth changed nothing—he hadn't promised not to hurt her. He hadn't promised her something lasting.
Except now she understood just how badly he needed a friend.
She freed her hand from his and returned to the bandage. "Do these need to be checked? I know basic first aid."
"They're fine." He slid his hand into her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands.
Every individual tug at her scalp set off a shiver. Pleasure, sweet and warm, and so, so different from the times Logan had wrapped his hand in her hair.
Trust, that was the difference. Trust and intent.
Jared stared down at her, his eyes locked with hers. "If you need to go, I understand. But I wish you'd stay."
When he stared at her like that, nothing else existed. Her stupid, immature heart gave a funny kick, and her voice came out breathless. "I made pancakes."
The corner of his mouth curved up. It was a slow smile, a knowing smile, one she could vaguely understand after the previous night. "Thank you. But I don't want pancakes."
He wanted her. And, for the first time, she wanted to be wanted.
Careful not to put any pressure on his wounded arm, she rose slowly on her toes and brushed her lips over his.
He didn't keep it careful or light. His hand clenched in her hair, and he pulled her head back, giving him deeper access to her mouth. And he took it, kissing her hard, with a rough edge of desire eroding his usual polish.
Passion, unchecked and unrehearsed. Her heart raced, and she pressed closer without thinking, sliding her hands down and around his body. Her fingers encountered the bandage on his side and she froze, then broke away. "Jared—"
"Shh." He pressed his thumb to her lips to silence her protests. "If you want to go, I'll walk you home. But if you stay, no holding back."
Somehow, it was easier to trust Jared to be careful with her body than with his own. She ran her hand past the bandage to stroke his back and whispered a compromise against the pad of his thumb. "I want us both to feel good."
"We will." He moved forward, guiding her to step back. "I'm not scared of pain. It can coexist with pleasure. The only thing that can't is… Well, you know, don't you, Lili?"
Oh yes, she knew. She knew in her bones, the bones that had once been ice and steel and were now melting along with the rest of her. "Numbness."
"Mmm." He was still moving, and he bent his head to lick the corner of her mouth. "In order to feel good, you have to feel, and that's terrifying all on its own."
She nearly stumbled. She caught his shoulders, steadying herself as he coaxed her back another step. "It's so much, and it's so new. I never know how much I can take."
"I do, though." His hand slipped from her hair to cup the back of her neck. "Is that enough for you?"
She didn't even have to think. "Yes."
His fingers squeezed tight in silent, imperious command. "Then trust me."
Shivering, she closed her eyes. "Yes."
They moved again. When she opened her eyes, they were in a dark room—sparsely furnished, with a wide window along one wall that looked out onto the bright lights of Eden. You could see the wall, the giant stone-and-metal structure separating the city from the sector, impenetrable and unforgiving.
The bed was a sharp contrast to the stark, chilly stone. Wide and soft, with no headboard, it sat on the far side of the room, surrounded and framed by curving, abstract pieces of metal wall art.
Shadows softened Jared's perfection. So did his disheveled hair and the stubble that covered his strong jaw. He wasn't a cold, aloof god anymore, but a flesh-and-blood man who could bleed, hurt. Want.
And he wanted her. Lili's hands trembled with the knowledge as she lifted them to the top button on her blouse.
Jared sank to the edge of the bed and watched her through heavy eyes, his fingers curling and relaxing in the plush duvet. "Slowly."
She didn't have a choice. She was clumsy, and the silk shirt Trix had found for her felt slippery and uncooperative. It took forever to work the first three buttons free, and her cheeks heated as the fabric parted to reveal her plain white bra and the tops of her breasts.
"Keep going."
She did, slowly pushing each button through the fabric with a rasp that was audible in the otherwise quiet room. The shirt slipped from one shoulder, and she let it fall away with the last fastening, sliding to pool on the floor.
Desire blazed in his eyes, but his voice was pure patience. "You're not naked yet, love."
Oh, God. It was exhilarating and intimidating at the same time. Naked wasn't a dress pulled up or pushed aside, frantic touches in a dark corner. It was stripping off every layer of armor, one scrap of clothing at a time, and showing him every usually concealed imperfection.
She took off her shoes first, robbing her of the additional inches of height. Then the pants, revealing her wide hips and soft thighs, the curves that had grown more pronounced without fear of Logan controlling how often or how much she ate.
She couldn't meet his eyes as she fumbled with the clasp on her bra. Nerves made the tiny hooks impos
sible to maneuver. It took three tries to unclasp them, and her uncertainty kicked a notch higher as she worked her panties down.
Braced against seeing disappointment in his eyes, she stepped free of the last bit of her clothing and looked up at him.
He rose, silent and intent. He circled her, his fingers brushing her skin—her shoulder, the small of her back, the top of one thigh—in quick, glancing caresses that left her hypersensitive and shivering.
"Jared?" she whispered.
"Shh." He knelt, so close that his jaw brushed the curve of her hip as he spoke. "Beautiful, Lili. I love that word, but it's not enough for you. Not nearly."
Self-consciousness vanished under the warmth of his words. For so much of her life, she'd struggled to make herself look better, perfect, all to benefit men who never really saw her.
Jared looked at her flaws and still saw perfection. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He touched her again, his knuckles gliding up the back of her leg, from her ankle all the way to her ass.
Swaying, she dropped one hand to his shoulder to steady herself as each touch built on the last. Not a fast plunge into overwhelming pleasure, but a slow fall that let her feel the prickles over her skin, the little jolt along her spine.
He stood, so close to her that she could feel the heat of his body, the brush of fabric against her legs, the rough graze of gauze against her back. It was illicit, standing there naked while he was still half-dressed.
Even more illicit when he slid one hand around her waist. It came to rest low on her belly, just above her pussy—and the fact that the word came to her so easily was the most illicit part of all.
She let her head fall back against his shoulder. She felt smaller like this, without high heels to bring her height closer to his. Her head fit neatly under his chin, and his body curled protectively around hers.
Smaller, but safer.
"How far does this go, Lili?" he asked softly. "Tell me now."
"As much as I can take," she replied, covering his hand with her own. "I trust you."
He spun her around—slowly, but with hands that were a little rough. Needy. His mouth descended on hers, another deep, demanding kiss full of teeth and tongue, one that went on forever.
She barely realized they were moving again, not until he pressed her back against his bed. She moaned into his mouth and clutched at his hair, the dual sensations of his hot skin above her and the cool sheets at her back heightening everything.
Like his fingers. They skimmed her shoulders, tugged at her hair. Tickled the end of one curling lock over the aching tip of her nipple until she wanted to sob at the slow burn.
She forced one hand open and slid it down, indulging herself by running her fingertips over his strong shoulder and the flexing muscles of his back. "You're beautiful, too."
He huffed out a short laugh. "Can't count the number of times I've heard that." His hand drifted lower, stroking the bottom curve of her breast and the sensitive skin over her ribs. "You're the first person I've believed in a long time."
She tightened her grip in his hair, pulling his head back so she could meet his eyes, suddenly needing to know he understood. That he knew she understood. "I see you."
"Yes." He dropped a kiss to her collarbone. "You do."
His mouth drifted lower, and she sucked in a breath when she realized each meandering kiss brought him closer and closer to her taut nipple.
Warm air. Soft lips. She squeezed her thighs together, squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't help. Her body pulsed when he closed his mouth around the tip, wet and hot and then rasping as his tongue grazed her, and she let out a helpless noise and writhed on the bed, half sure they'd already reached her limits.
Touching herself felt good. Him touching her was…
So much. Almost too much.
"Hands above your head," he whispered.
She struggled to obey, clutching at the sheets, barely noticing when she caught her own hair in her trembling grip.
He touched her knee, then his fingertips skimmed up to the sensitive spot where her thigh met her hip. "Keep them there, Lili. I'll know when you've had enough."
She still had her legs clenched together. She could promise again that she trusted him, but pretty words were hollow compared to action. Exhaling shakily, she eased her knees apart.
"Good girl. So sweet." He sucked her nipple into his mouth again, drawing on it sharply as his hand slipped between her thighs.
Her body twisted tight. She didn't have to hold back her cries this time, but she couldn't stop herself from digging her teeth into her lower lip as a lifetime of training in smothering her reactions kicked in.
She had to contain this. But she couldn't—his fingers slicked over her pussy, and she shuddered at how wet she was, how nakedly needy.
His leg slid over hers, urging her legs wider, and he raised his head. He braced his free arm beside her head and tangled his fingers with hers, holding her arms in place. "So close to ready," he murmured.
She clutched at the only thing she could—the hand pinning her down. It should have been frightening, being naked and vulnerable, trapped and open to him in every possible way.
But there was such tenderness in his body. In his voice. In his touch, as he soothed her trembling with slow strokes that eased the sharpest edges of her nervousness. "Ready for what?"
He answered with his body instead of words, pushing one finger against her.
Into her.
It stretched awkwardly—not quite pain but not pleasure, either—and that was oddly reassuring. It let her suck in a breath and find her equilibrium for the brief moment before he withdrew and worked it back in, deeper.
It stretched more now. She might have shifted her hips away, but the strong leg over hers held her in place, and there was nothing to do but shiver and feel.
Jared sought her gaze and held it, his dark eyes locked with hers as he eased a second finger inside her. Moving, pumping slowly, twisting gently, until the almost-painful pressure gave way to something even more maddening.
Heat.
"Jared." Arching into his touch was as impossible as flinching away, and she whimpered with frustration. "I need…" Something. More.
"I know." He pushed deeper, then pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit with just a whisper of pressure.
She couldn't hold back her cry this time. It tore free of her throat on a pulse of white-hot bliss, and she writhed in a futile attempt to buck up.
He stilled with a soft noise. "Careful, love. Not too fast."
Incomprehensible words. Everything was fast and desperate now, anticipation magnified a hundred times. It had been so easy with her own touch, easy to center her fingers precisely where the ache was worst, easy to relieve it before it could become too overwhelming.
"Why?" she pleaded, digging her nails into his hand. "Why can't it be fast?"
"Because you want us both to feel good," he reminded her of her previous words. "I may not be scared of pain, but it doesn't belong here. Not your first time."
Nothing hurt anymore. But she knew the first time probably would. It was supposed to be painful and abrupt and over with blessed speed—except if she'd still believed any of that, she wouldn't be here.
His thumb grazed her clit again, jolting her into another whimper before she managed to speak. "I feel good. Too good."
"No." He nuzzled her cheek, then licked her lips. "Not yet. But you will."
She leaned up to catch his mouth, kissing him clumsily, desperately, as his fingers twisted inside her, not only gliding in and out now but stretching again.
As the pressure built, she understood. He wasn't just trying to make her feel good, he was trying to make her ready. Teaching her body to accept him, building sensation until she wasn't even embarrassed at the slick sound of his thrusting fingers.
"See, Lili?" He whispered the words against her mouth, breathing them into her, an intimate connection almost painful in its intensity. "Your body is wa
king up, learning what it wants. What it needs."
"You." Too revealing, but she wasn't embarrassed, not with release so close she could taste it.
But not reach for it. She didn't have to. Jared knew what she could take, and he gave it to her—his fingers plunged deeper, and the slick pressure on her clit turned into a demand.
When she gave in, it wasn't like before. Not the sweet flash fire that burned through to her core and left her limp. Her body clenched tight around his fingers, a pulse that expanded and expanded until she shattered outward with a hoarse cry.
"Fucking—" He bit her ear, closing his teeth on the lobe with a shudder as he rocked his hand. It dragged out the pleasure, turned her orgasm into a series of throbs instead of echoes that faded away.
Too much. Nothing could feel like this and be real. She dug her fingernails into his hand, unable to stop herself when the world was buzzing and she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but shudder through it.
Jared whispered her name, soothed her with soft kisses and gentle flicks of his tongue—over the line of her jaw, her cheek, the spot where her neck met her shoulder.
She gasped in a breath and turned her face toward his. "That was…" Amazing. Beautiful. Life-altering. The O'Kanes weren't a mystery, not anymore. If this was what it felt like to share your body, they'd found a high far easier to manufacture than any drug her father had ever developed.
"Just the beginning," he promised.
She whimpered.
Jared eased from the bed in graceful, smooth movements, as if he wasn't injured at all. He unbuckled his belt, his gaze still locked on her, and opened his pants.
The black boxers he wore couldn't hide his erection. She'd seen it before, touched it, but now she knew how completely he could fill her with only two fingers. No wonder he'd taken his time to prepare her.
She watched, hypnotized, as he pushed the fabric down his powerful legs, freeing his cock. He stood there, completely confident and unashamed of his nudity, as she let herself stare.
A sculptor couldn't have created something more perfect. Smooth skin marred only by the bandages was otherwise free of scars or marks. He had muscles, but not huge and bulky like Zan and Flash, or even solid like Bren. He was strong but lean, his broad shoulders sloping into well-defined arms. Her gaze drifted down his chest and stomach to his narrow hips—
