Damned If You Don't
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Loose Id Titles by Linda J. Parisi
Linda J. Parisi
DAMNED IF YOU DON’T
Linda J. Parisi
www.loose-id.com
Damned If You Don’t
Copyright © March 2014 by Linda J. Parisi
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
eISBN 9781623007829
Editor: Rory Olsen
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Published in the United States of America
Loose Id LLC
PO Box 806
San Francisco CA 94104-0806
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * *
DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Gwen Jones, dearest friend, fellow author, and professor extraordinaire. Thank you, for everything.
Acknowledgment
I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude to the following:
Treva Harte and Rory Olsen for making this book a reality.
My agent, Marisa Corvisiero, for all her hard work and dedication.
My family and friends for believing in me.
The members of Liberty States Fiction Writers for their incredible support.
The Traveling Circus because I love you guys.
And, Dr. Elizabeth Aiden and Dr. Murray Rosenthal for their guidance in researching metabolics and cellular kinetics.
Thank you all.
Chapter One
Fool. Fool. A thousand times a fool.
Dr. Morgan Mackenzie looked out at the water meeting the horizon as the Lewes ferry sped along toward Delaware, and hung her head, wondering how and where she’d lost control of the situation.
“I fell in love with you the moment you turned the corner,” Jackson Kent told her, his tone way too sincere, and his gaze way too hot to handle.
To hide her surprise she laughed, unable to suppress the heat filling her cheeks. But inside her stomach was doing an act for Cirque du Soleil.
“Jack, really. Be serious.”
Morgan made the mistake of looking down and watched the water slap and roll against the hull of the ferry. She’d taken this as an alternate route from Cape May, New Jersey, thinking it would be less easily followed. Both the ferry and her predicament caused her stomach to clench.
“I am.” Could she really believe him? They’d only met last night. Lifting her gaze, she watched his shirt stretch across his broad chest beneath his jacket and knew that a week ago, the possibility of jumping his bones would never have entered her mind. A man like this was simply out of her league. So was the situation she was in.
I need to go to the police.
No, I need to get as far away from this as possible.
Morgan pulled her coat closed and shivered. BioClin wasn’t stupid. They had to have somebody looking for her.
I need to go to the police.
And what? Hand them everything? How would that prove my innocence? Only my name and my notebook notes are connected to that poor woman’s death.
Her shiver turned to a shudder. And to top it all off, there’s no body to prove that someone’s died.
“Jack. Look. What we shared was—”
“The most incredible night I’ve ever spent with anyone,” he answered, cutting her off. A lock of hair fell down onto his forehead, giving his face a look of boyish earnestness as he reached out and clasped her hands in his.
But there was nothing childlike about the heat simmering in his eyes or the intent in his gaze. Thank goodness he couldn’t see the liquid fire answering in the pit of her belly.
The ferry rolled. Her stomach clenched again, just the bucket of cold water she needed to counteract him. He was a drug she couldn’t afford to take.
Damned motion sickness.
Any worse than the sickness in your head? What the hell were you thinking when you walked into that man’s hotel room?
Thinking?
Morgan shook her head to clear it. Was it really that simple? Had she given in to his charms simply because she wanted to taste the unattainable?
She drew in a deep breath. There was something just insanely exquisite about the man, just the right combination for her taste. He was beautiful, almost pretty, but all male. Her fingertips had personally explored every hill and crevice of his chest and biceps so she knew.
The fresh air helped her stomach, but there wasn’t anything she could think of that would save her from this man. Jack. In spite of the hard consonants, his name simply rolled off her tongue. Jackson Kent. The one luxury she couldn’t afford.
Eventually, the people who were after her would pick up her trail. The proprietor of the hotel would remember her and probably be able to identify Morgan even though she’d changed her appearance. No one would ever know she and Jack had any contact other than being guests at the establishment at the same time.
Her logic helped ease the sickness that had leached from her stomach to her head to her heart. She didn’t want to hurt him. She definitely didn’t want him caught up in her problems.
“Hey, are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
Time to exit, stage left. “A soda would be great. Can you get me one from the snack bar?”
“My pleasure.”
He was back before she could collect her wayward thoughts. Turning her head from the horizon, Morgan watched him approach. God, he was beautiful. The kind of man you figured just had to
be a player.
Morgan knew firsthand exactly how good he really was.
“Morgan,” he growled, handing her the bottle. “You sooo don’t want to look at me that way.”
“What way?” she asked, her tone full of innocence.
He grinned, lifting his hand so that his thumb grazed her cheek. His touch shivered all the way down her spine. “The way you looked last night. When you were naked in my arms. After our second time. Or was it third?”
Morgan choked in spite of herself, “I am not.”
He cocked his head, his tone teasing. “Oh no? As a matter of fact,” he answered back, his tone low and full of promise, “I believe you’re daring me.”
“Daring you?” Morgan opened the bottle with shaking fingers and drank. “Jack. Stop. Behave this instant.”
“Oh no, darling,” he replied, pressing against her with a dangerous look. “That’s not what you want. And I know it.”
Damn, damn, damn. Incorrigible. Impossible. Not only had he made her ditch her better judgment, he’d made her forget who she really was.
He was seducing her all over again. Sayonara backbone. In fact there wasn’t a bone in her body that stayed solid when he looked at her like that.
In the interest of self-preservation, Morgan dragged her gaze away from him. She turned to stare out at the horizon again, trying to quell the heat inside. Talk about a losing battle.
“So what are you?” she asked, her attempt to change the conversation a pitiful one. “What do you do? I didn’t really have time to ask last night.”
She made the mistake of turning her head to look at him, and he grinned, that very special kind of half smirk, half smile that liquefied her insides right down to her toes. “I own my own business. Which allows for…” He reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and forced her to pivot toward him, his gaze turning incendiary. “Diversions.”
This insanity had to end. “Jack. This is a public place. It’s a ferry, for crying out loud. People. Cars. Workers.”
He stared at her, looking way too innocent for her own good. “It was the only way I could capture you.”
Morgan blanched inside until she read the sexy, on-the-prowl promise on his face. “I tried to tell you before. I can’t be captured.”
He punched his chest with his fist. “Me, Jack. Hunter. You, prize.”
“Seriously,” she snarked back at him.
His head dipped, his gaze acknowledging that he was getting rather carried away. “The problem is you don’t see yourself as one.”
She snorted, taking his words at face value. “Jack, be honest. I’m not a model.”
He didn’t let her continue, placing his finger on her lips. “Beauty’s only skin-deep.”
She nipped at his fingertip, appreciating that he was trying to make her feel better.
“Brains and this,” he told her, moving his finger to point at her heart. “Make for the real prize.”
“You’re a fool.”
“And yet…” He trailed off and pulled her to him so that their bodies nearly touched. “You make the world go away.”
That was the amazing part of all of this. He did for her too.
He took the bottle out of her hands and placed it on the railing of the ferry, then reached around her to draw her close. The breeze, once cold, now refreshed as it counteracted his heat. A strand of hair blew across her cheek, and he brushed it aside before cupping her cheeks with his palms.
He lowered his head, and Morgan could feel herself reaching up to meet him. Then she realized where they were. “No, Jack. Not here.”
His head shifted slowly from side to side. “Oh no,” she cried, putting her arms in between them and pushing at his chest.
Those sturdy limbs refused to budge an inch. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he challenged, still not budging.
“No, no, no, no, no. Public place. If we get caught, we could go to jail.”
His gaze told her he was too far gone to listen to reason. “Then we don’t get caught.”
His grin faded. He turned serious, scaring her even more than she was already. He couldn’t know what getting caught by the authorities would mean for her. And she couldn’t tell him. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Come on.”
He began pulling her away from the railing. “No, Jack. And you can’t make me.”
“I can’t?” he asked, his tone low and sexy, barely above a growl.
They fought for every inch of ground until he let out a roar of aggravation and swung her up against his body. He’d finally reached the breaking point where it didn’t seem to matter anymore that they were in a public area. He was going to do exactly as he implied.
If he did, she’d let him.
Mortified by her own willingness to throw away her pride, her principles, and her fear, Morgan stared up at him. She came as close to begging as she could. “Jack. Not like this.”
He stilled, sanity returning to his eyes. He swallowed before he whispered, “I guess now you understand.”
She did. She had the ability to make him forget everything, because he was doing the same thing to her.
“I could take you right here, right now,” he told her, his gaze sobering. “And you’d let me.”
“God help me—I think I would.”
She dropped her gaze, for to look him in the eyes was like looking in a mirror, something she wasn’t too sure she wanted to see.
Oh no you don’t. Morgan Mackenzie is not a coward.
She forced her head upward. The breeze ruffled a few strands of his hair. His face grew taut with desire, telling her exactly what his intentions were. But his eyes. Oh heaven, his eyes. Those killer blues had softened. They’d gone from sapphire chips to the color of swirled marble, filled with confusion and heat. Funny, he didn’t seem to be able to understand this—thing—growing between them. Theirs was an insane passion, a fool’s passion, one she couldn’t begin to understand either.
Letting her see inside, though, made up her mind. There was no way to stop what was about to explode between them. He bent his head closer and closer to hers. Her chin tilted upward to meet his. One touch would reignite the fire that would probably get them both locked up for certain.
His lips closed over hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth before he let go, his breath going staccato as he leaned his forehead against hers.
“Jack,” she whispered, panting, her heart thundering, “all right.”
He grabbed her arm, pulling to where a steel beam met the sidewall of the ferry and created a tiny private corner.
Trembling fingers cupped her cheeks. Molten fire scorched her skin as his gaze roamed over her face. One enchanted evening had morphed into pure need. And that frightened her more than anything else. His head drew closer, and Morgan fell back into the wall, finding the cold metal strangely comforting, solid in a sea of emotions she could neither accept nor deny.
He dragged his lips across her forehead, her skin burning under their trace, and then tasted her brows and cheeks as if touch could imprint her features. He drew in short, helpless breaths. His hard length pressed against her belly. How had everything gotten so out of control?
“Jack,” she choked out once more, trying desperately for one last bid at sanity. He stilled. His arms tightened around her back. His head dipped, and his lips devoured hers.
So much for the word no.
Perhaps he tasted her inner struggle. Perhaps he tasted her fear, and not just the fear about getting caught making love on a ferry. Whatever the cause, his kiss gentled, coaxed. Their tongues tasted and mated, giving and taking. And that frightened her most of all. It wasn’t just about sex anymore. It was about sharing.
Jack tore his mouth away and leaned his forehead on top of hers. Neither of them could breathe. Two hearts beating out of control. They were both a hairbreadth from exploding.
It was all so wrong. And so right.
He opened her jacket and pulled her blouse out, his ha
nd sliding up her belly as she sucked in a breath. His fingers captured her breast, tweaking her nipple until her knees buckled against him. He caught her, pressing her into the wall of the ferry.
“I need to be inside you,” he choked. “Now.”
“Jack…” she mewled, making one last feeble protest.
A slow, sly grin grew on his face. His hand slipped from her breast to reach into his back pocket. He pulled out a pocketknife.
A knife! “What are you—”
His grin went beyond wicked. He simply nodded.
“No,” she whispered, a most delicious tingle rising up from her toes. “You can’t be thinking—”
“The same thing as you?” he answered.
“Oh no, you’re not,” she cried, trying to deny what she wanted more than anything else.
“Watch me.” He yanked her to him, spread her legs, and sliced open the seam at the crotch of her pants, letting the cold metal graze the skin of her inner thigh.
Her heart thumped wildly. “You’re crazy!”
“Yes,” he said, his tone devilishly wild. “Now open your legs. All the way.”
He shoved her panties to one side with the knife handle as the metal brushed her nether lips. Morgan shivered, gasping.
His gaze burned right through to her soul, sinfully delicious. “You like that, don’t you?”
Her answer was to pull his head down and grind her mouth against his. The knife clattered to the deck as his hands spread her wider. One finger. Two. His mouth covered hers just in time, her scream reverberating down his throat.
He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, took out a condom, and let the wallet fall to the floor. Once he sheathed himself, he gripped her legs and lifted her up, shoving deep inside her. He tore his mouth away, waves of heat pouring from her, and forced her up against the wall as he thrust in and out, little moans escaping his lips.
Maybe it was the realization of getting caught, that they could get caught. Maybe it was the realization that she really didn’t know anything about him. Maybe it was the knowledge that she knew more about him in that moment than some people know in a lifetime. Whatever it was, once Jack’s lips touched hers, once his tongue entwined with hers, Morgan lost it. Totally. She reached around his shoulders, her hands clawing at his back. Her legs tightened around his waist. She growled, biting and sucking, finally begging for more. “Jack—oh, Jack! Please don’t stop—oh Jack…”