Tomorrow this will all be over.
She closed her eyes for a second, pressed her lips to the spot, and this time Jake’s body jerked under her touch, a nearly imperceptible motion, but she’d moved him.
His naked body was still wet and he hadn’t so much as shifted. What must it be like to have that kind of control? That kind of … patience?
No, she’d been wrong about that one—Jake Hansen was far from a patient man … except when it concerned her. That touched her to the very core.
“How do you explain the scars to other people?” She remained on her knees, her fingers outlining the rough shape of the brand.
“You mean, to other women?” Jake asked harshly. “They assume combat and I don’t tell them any differently. Some think I was in a gang. Others don’t give a shit as long as I make them happy.”
“And you’re good at that, aren’t you? Making women happy?”
“I used to be.”
“As long as there was an expiration date.” He nodded and she bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to think about Jake with other women. She had apologizing to do. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … before, when I told you about Rafe. I shouldn’t have … I never should have compared you to him … I was upset.”
“You had a right to be.”
“I don’t know what I have a right to anymore,” she admitted, her hand still on his hip. “Have you ever seen a doctor about any of these? There are some newer techniques—”
“You want to fix me, Doc? You think taking the scars away is going to make everything better? Going to erase my past?”
“I know it won’t do that,” she said. “You were the one who showed me that lying to myself was the worst thing I could possibly do.”
“I spent my childhood giving someone permission to beat the shit out of me. Spent my teenage years pretending that my life was great until my mother died. I was the master of lying to myself. And I know better than anyone how much pretending can come back to bite you in the ass. But I didn’t say I knew how to make it go away.”
She got up off her knees and faced him. “You know it will never go away fully, but you can still make it better. You start by telling people. Telling me everything you do remember, the way I told you everything.”
“Don’t push this,” he warned, and he meant it, but she pushed anyway, pushed him beyond his breaking point. The same way he’d done to her.
“Or what, Jake? What are you going to do?”
His voice was a low growl. “Push back.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
She paused a minute before slamming his shoulders with her palms as hard as she could. He didn’t move at all, but he did bare his teeth at her. So she did it again. And again. Until tears were running down her cheeks and her teeth grit together so hard that her head ached, until he caught her wrists.
“Stop it, Isabelle.”
“No. I won’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I can help you. I can fix your back. It won’t be perfect—”
“And neither will I,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you get it? This doesn’t matter to me. It always matters to everyone else. If you take the scars away, nothing will change.”
“Everything will change,” she said quietly. “You’ll have let me help you. You’ll have gotten rid of something that you shouldn’t have to carry around for the rest of your life.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m allowed to carry around. Do you understand? You don’t have the right—”
“I have every right!” She pushed at his chest but he wasn’t letting go. She struggled against his grip, but when it was apparent that was futile, she took his face in her hands instead. “I love you. And it’s not because you saved my life. I’m not going to walk away from this. Even though you told me that you knew I wasn’t ready,” she said.
He stopped, let go of her shoulders and put his hands on her wrists to pull hers off his face. “When I told you that, I meant that you weren’t ready for me.”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s not ready for me.” She heard her own breath catch in her throat and realized that she’d taken another step closer to him rather than away. “Maybe you still see me as a victim. Maybe you’ll never be able to get past that.”
“I don’t see you as a victim. Not at all,” he said, his voice holding that low, couched danger. “When I see you, all I can think about is touching you, running my hands along your breasts. Putting my mouth between your legs and taking you with my tongue until the only name you think about is mine.”
She swallowed hard, the heat between her legs pushing her right into Jake’s arms, making her want to tell him that his was the only name.
“Is that how you want me to see you, Isabelle? Or is it naked? In my arms? Riding me?”
A low whimper escaped the back of her throat, and the only thing she could do was nod yes.
Heat flooded her body, her cheeks flushed with desire and embarrassment at being found out so easily. He knew her the way no one did, saw right through her, and now, after tonight, he would literally know her inside and out.
She wanted nothing less.
“I’m going to take you now, Isabelle. Right here. On the floor. The couch. The table. So if you don’t want that to happen, you’d better leave.”
For a few seconds, Jake let go of her completely and watched her face. She stood, her breasts pressed to his chest, not sure whose heart was beating faster, hers or his.
There was so much danger waiting for her outside that door; tonight, she only wanted what was about to happen between these four walls.
And then she let her hand move between them to circle his hard, thick length. A low, fierce rumble rose in his chest, and for a second she saw the sudden loss of control in his eyes.
She stroked him, wanting to see the glaze of pure desire. For her. Because of her.
His palms closed in again on her lower back, locking her in place. The mood changed, his arousal pressed against her belly and she knew that Jake Hansen wasn’t going to be gentle with her. And when he put his mouth on hers, he kissed her like he owned her.
“Jake,” she moaned against his mouth.
He pulled back, stared down at her. “You’re mine. Tonight you’re all mine.”
“Yes. Yours,” she whispered. She’d been his since that first time he’d taken her into his arms, in Africa, when he’d covered her up so gently.
Tonight, he was taking her clothes off, uncovering her. Seeing her in a new light.
He yanked her shirt over her head and threw it aside and then roughly undid the clasp of her bra. His eyes never left hers as he did the same to her jeans and underwear, pushed them down her legs until they puddled around her feet when she shrugged her bra off and they stayed like that for a second, skin on skin.
And then his hands reached around, each one grabbing an ass cheek and forcing her off her feet, pushing his arousal against her sex. She moaned at the contact, ran her hands across his shoulders and down his biceps and he took her down to the ground until his full weight was on hers, thick carpet at her back.
“Open your eyes, Isabelle. Open them and look at me,” he said. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them, saw his serious gray eyes probing hers.
“I remember everything … every single thing about those months in Africa,” she said. “The way the earth smelled different in the heat than it did after a good, hard rain. The way I could never get my cornmeal to stick together the way the African women could. The way they all wanted my American things—my flip-flops and my sunglasses. I remember when he touched me, that first night, that it was different. I mistook different for good. I know better now. I know so much better.”
“I’m the man in your bed tonight. Do you understand?” Jake asked fiercely. In response, she twined a hand in his hair and roughly pulled his head down toward hers, kissed him, felt his groan vibrate through her entire body.
Jake couldn’t tell if Isabelle was shaking with anticipation or with nerves, or if that shaking was coming from him, but he’d be damned if he was going to stop now.
She was so soft against him—wet, willing, her legs spread, and God, he hoped this was the right thing to do. It didn’t matter anyway. He couldn’t stop now if he tried.
His hands moved between her legs as he bent his head to suckle a nipple. Her body jolted and bucked against his, and he circled her clit with the pad of his thumb before he slid a finger inside of her, and then another.
“I can’t wait, Jake—please …”
He couldn’t either, pressed himself inside of her without stopping and his cock jumped as her wet heat contracted around him almost immediately. Control was gone, replaced by an insatiable urge for her taste, the feel of her skin on his, warm and sweet. He sank in between her legs and took what he’d wanted, laid claim to Isabelle with a fierce, overwhelming desire that seared through to his core.
In her haze, she didn’t realize she’d climbed him, her thighs clamped around his waist, her arms tight to his shoulders, her body heaving upward into his involuntarily. She’d already begun to shudder. His hand traveled down her belly, to brush the soft curls between her legs while she gave those low whimpers of pleasure.
“Let it go, baby,” he urged. “This is what you want … what you need.”
“Jake—oh, God, Jake!” She cried out his name over and over, and Christ, he loved it, urged her to say it louder still.
He didn’t care that she ran her hands down his back, along the harsh ridges of scars, hard plains of muscles tensing, twisting under her caresses. Her touch was a cool wash of relief even though he knew the worst wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But right now, in this space, there was nothing but Isabelle and her pleasure.
He wanted to explore every inch of her, discover every single sweet spot she had and find some she didn’t know about herself … the ones that would make her cry out in surprise, and the ones that made her fingers tighten at his hips, the way they were now, digging into his flesh with a sharp, biting pain he welcomed.
And even though he was the one on top, in charge, he knew he’d never been more out of control in his entire life than he was lying between her legs, cradled in her arms, buried deep inside of her.
Everything in his body was screaming for sweet relief, but it was too soon. He hadn’t waited this long for things to end this quickly.
He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against her shoulder, tried to ignore the way she impatiently pushed her feet against his ass to drive him in deeper—and oh, yeah, this was good. Unbelievable, with her soft, wet heat pulsing around him, driving him out of his fucking mind.
She was still coming, his name on her lips in stuttered gasps, when he pulled out of her, put his mouth between her legs. His cock throbbed in response to the warm, sweet flesh he licked and sucked until she came again—and again, while he held her thighs apart.
Her back arched up off the floor, her hands clawed at his shoulders, the rug, anything to gain some purchase against the assault of pleasure raining down on her body. Every sensation heightened, a renewal.
His touch was dominating—potent. Her body surged toward his and it was incredible, he was incredible. Firm and fast and hot and slow all at the same time, so many different sensations buzzed through her that it was almost too much to process.
She watched as he kissed his way back up her body. She wanted him again—but more than that, she wanted him to lose control the way she had.
“Please …” She pulled him back on top of her. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to handle the feel of someone’s full weight on her again. But now she just felt protected … safe … sexy.
She let it all go. Finally. Let herself open her eyes and watch Jake as he drove into her with equal parts ferocity and tenderness, wondered briefly how much pain this was causing him thanks to his side and promptly forgot her own name when he lifted her hips off the floor to thrust inside of her at a new angle.
She didn’t forget his name, was yelling it so loudly—and he seemed to like that, encouraged it. Asked for it.
No, it had never been like this. Ever. Connected—pushing and pulling back—and she was lost, filled with him. Overwhelmed with the intensity and the pleasure and her whole body was warmth and tightness. His swollen length stretched her, pushed her past any limits. Skin damp from exertion, his shower, but still she clung and he was inside her, filling her, her legs over his arms so she was helpless against his thrusts.
She was never letting go.
CHAPTER
22
Clutch woke up calling out Fay’s name, while Sarah remained wrapped around him. For a few seconds, he thought he was back in Ujiji, back in California, back in bumblefuck anywhere. Back in the life he had before he was seven years old.
And yet, there wasn’t judgment in Sarah’s eyes—only pain. She’d been watching him while he slept, waking him every half hour to make sure he was still conscious. This time, he’d woken himself.
“You’re haunted, Bobby.” Her voice was low, throaty. She shifted and found her cigarettes on the bedside table and lit one. For a little while, the silence hung thick between them as the smoke curled toward the ceiling. “You’re being hunted in your dreams.”
“Yes.”
“Why did they kill Fay?” she asked. “Did she find out who you really were?”
He sat up, his stomach lurched and he drew in deep breaths so he wouldn’t get sick right in front of her. Sweat slicked his body and he felt the covers being drawn up around his bare back and shoulders, Sarah’s strong arms holding him. “I told her everything … the way I told you. We were going to run together. God, I was so young, so fucking stupid to think I could escape them—or my past.”
“We can do this together, Bobby,” she told him. “I’m not letting you go now. Not after all of this.”
“Don’t you get it, Sarah? They took Fay and they killed her. They did horrible things to her—told me what they’d done in blow-by-blow detail before I agreed to go back to work for them.” Things he saw in his dreams, thanks to the pictures they’d forced him to look at. As if what he’d imagined wasn’t horrible enough.
She called out for you the whole time, one of the men told him.
“After they took her … Why did you agree, Bobby? What was left?”
“It was the only way to insure my mother stayed alive.” He waited for more questions, but none came. Instead, she spoke the words he thought he’d wanted to hear from her—words that broke his heart.
“Where is your mother now?”
He looked directly into her eyes. There was nothing else to hold back. “I don’t know. I’m not allowed to know.”
“She might not even be alive.”
“And she might be living happily-ever-after somewhere,” he said. “Which is more than I can hope for myself.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“There’s no other way out, Sarah. These men don’t play by any rules. Just like this country. Just like the man I’m going to be forced to become again.”
She caressed his shoulder. “Then we’ll run—together.”
“That’s what Fay said, that’s what we were doing. Don’t you see, Sarah? They won’t stop until they get me back. I can’t do this to you.”
“You can’t leave me behind either. They know who I am now.”
God, she was right. He’d stripped her of any protection she might’ve had when he left her with his phone, when she killed one of the members of GOST. A man named Dave, recognizable by the skull-and-crossbones tat on his inner right wrist.
“We can get lost in this country,” she said.
“We’re already lost. Don’t you get that?”
She was still smoking, staring up at the ceiling. “Yes, I get that, Bobby. I always have.”
Jake wanted to sleep, to lose himself in Isabelle’s slow, easy breaths, to pretend that there
was nothing wrong outside his door. And he could really sleep next to her now—it wouldn’t matter if he had another nightmare. She’d seen it and it hadn’t fazed her, hadn’t scared her away.
Nothing he did could scare her away. The problem was, her nightmare was still out there.
He was going to have to let go.
The last thing he wanted to do was slide out of the bed, but he forced himself to extricate his limbs from the warm tangle of arms and legs, leaving her clutching the pillow and murmuring his name sleepily.
“Don’t leave, Jake. Please.”
He had to go, had to figure out how the hell he was going to keep her safe and capture Rafe at the same time.
He didn’t want the answer, probably didn’t have any right to it, but he needed to know before he let himself in any further: “Were you in love with him?”
“No.” She said it immediately, shook her head at the same time. “But I think he did have feelings for me. Which is why I ended things. It wouldn’t have been fair. I was already engaged.” She stopped. “My God, what you must think of me.”
“I think you’re human. You were lonely and scared and you turned to him for comfort,” he said, and it took so much for him to remain rational.
“I’m not … that’s not what I’m doing with you.”
He didn’t answer, dropped his head and stared at the floor. He heard the rustle of the sheets as she moved closer, touched him tentatively on the shoulder.
“Jake, you have to believe me. This is different. So different. I don’t know how to explain it, but it just is. The way I knew I didn’t love Rafe or my fiancé, not the way I was supposed to … that’s how I know—”
He stood, knocking her hand off his shoulder by his movement. “Not now, Isabelle. It’s not the time.”
“It’s the best time to tell you that I’m in love with you, Jake. Not with the SEAL who saved me, but with the man who, little by little, made me whole again.”
She had him by the shoulders. Shook him almost urgently.
Hard to Hold Page 26
