His eyes were dark pools of need; his lips shone with moisture from her. It was so damn hot that she framed his face in her hands and bent her head to lick the taste of her from his mouth. “Do it, Jackson,” she whispered against his lips, softly, imploringly. “Fuck me as hard as you need to and make me yours.”
The sound that erupted from his chest was raw and primal as he wrapped his arms tight around her, then shifted and rolled her to her back so that she was lying on the bare hardwood floor and he was on top of her, already sinking back inside of her, impaling her as if he owned her while shoving her legs far apart to make room for him in between.
And still, it didn’t seem to be enough. He slid his hands up her back and clamped his fingers around her shoulders, anchoring her in place as his hips slammed hard against hers, and there was nowhere she could go, nothing she could do but let him take her, however he wanted. However he needed. His chest crushed against her breasts, and he melded his mouth to hers, his body completely dominating hers with long, frantic, aggressive, grinding thrusts.
It would be easy to write this off as just rough, animal sex, but Tara knew better. The emotion pouring off of him was nearly tangible. He couldn’t seem to get deep enough, couldn’t seem to get close enough, as if he were trying to fuse their bodies, their souls. As if he was afraid of losing her . . . and it was a feeling she recognized and understood all too well.
She finally, finally, felt that control of his break. His thrusts grew more erratic—shorter, harder, deeper jerks of his hips that made her second release peak just as his did, her body convulsing and clenching around his cock. He tossed his head back, his jaw clenched, teeth bared as he came on a long, endless moan that vibrated through her.
Completely spent, he collapsed on top of her and buried his face against her neck, and she caressed her hands down the slope of his back as they both spent a few extra minutes recovering from the intensity of their orgasms.
All that Tara cared about in that moment was they were joined, connected, and inseparable. They had plenty of time to figure out the rest.
Chapter Thirteen
Since you have the day off, would you like to come by my office around one? I’d love to show you around and take you to lunch.
Jackson sent the text off to Tara, then set his phone on his desk as he went back to reviewing the construction documents for an upcoming commercial design he’d been assigned as project manager. He had a three o’clock meeting with the CEO and CFO of the company and wanted to make sure he was prepared to answer any questions that might arise.
But from one to three this afternoon, he had a two-hour window of time. Normally, he had lunch appointments with clients, but today he was free for that short period. And since, for the past week, Tara had been working her ass off with Clay to get everything prepared to now cater for a lunch crowd at Kincaid’s, their time together had been limited. She’d been exhausted in the evenings, and he’d worked late a couple of nights. Their schedules were still conflicting more than he liked, and it just seemed like something was a bit off with Tara. Then again, she’d always held a part of herself back—not physically but emotionally. And he couldn’t deny that it worried him. A lot.
He chalked it up to her being overworked and tired, and while he’d like to think that a lunch date would get them back on track, he’d come to the decision that they were at a point in their relationship where he needed to trust his instincts. The intuition that had been telling him for weeks now that this woman was his soul mate—but he’d allowed insecurities and fears to get in the way. Tara was the one person who gave him everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d ever needed. A sense of belonging and the kind of unconditional acceptance he’d searched his entire life for.
He wanted those last bits of uncertainties between them gone, and he planned to replace them with genuine reassurances. After six weeks together, she deserved a solid commitment going forward, something to prove that he wasn’t going anywhere. He definitely had his own hang-ups, along with a past that was filled with nothing but heartache and disappointments, but he knew that without taking a risk, there was no gain. And sweet, honest, fiercely loyal Tara Kent was worth taking that risk with his heart one last time. He’d be an idiot to let a woman like her slip through his fingers.
His phone vibrated with Tara’s response. Sure. That sounds good. I’ll be there in just a bit.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself. Perfect. He’d give her a quick tour around the office to meet the few people they’d missed at the gala, then take her to the cafe down the street for a nice lunch. He was going to invite her to dinner this evening at his place, and by the time the night was over, she was going to know exactly how he felt about her. That he loved her.
With the decision made, he tried to focus on work until his secretary, Georgia, announced through the intercom that Tara was there to see him. He closed out the document on his computer, picked up this cell phone, and headed out to the reception area.
Tara had already met Georgia at the party, and the two were making small talk as he arrived. She’d worn a pretty cream-colored dress that ended below the knee and was trimmed in ruffles along the hem. She looked casual but tasteful, with her dark hair down in loose waves and her makeup lightly applied.
Without questioning the public display of affection, he walked right up to Tara and kissed her cheek as if she already belonged to him. Soon, she would.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, and smiled at the blush that tinged her cheek.
“Hi,” she replied, her blue eyes soft with her own subtle affection for him.
“You two are so cute together,” Georgia said with a grin. “It’s nice to see Jackson so smitten with a woman.”
“I’m totally smitten,” he admitted, uncaring of how that infatuation might make him look or sound because, well, he was crazy about her.
The phone on Georgia’s desk rang, and she excused herself to take the call.
Jackson touched his hand to Tara’s back and gently guided her toward his office. “Let me show you around and then we’ll go grab a bite to eat.”
“Sounds good.”
Since it was lunchtime, the place was quieter than usual. He showed her his office, the conference room that they’d dubbed “the war room,” and pointed out the photos on the hallway walls that showcased some of the projects he’d worked on. She seemed genuinely interested and impressed with the architectural aspect of his job and asked more questions than he’d anticipated. But the one thing he did realize was that he liked sharing this integral part of himself with her, and he loved that her enthusiasm was so authentic and real.
They reached the executive area of Schmidt and Kramer, where the president and vice-president of the company had a small suite of offices. Their admin secretary, Brynn Howell, took her lunch at eleven, so she was sitting behind her desk now, working away on her computer. The two main doors to the executive offices behind Brynn were open, and Jackson gave an amicable nod of acknowledgement to the men sitting inside each of those rooms, Walter Schmidt and Phillip Kramer. The two gentlemen did the same and smiled when they saw that Tara was with him, and she smiled and sent them a quick, friendly wave in silent greeting.
“Hi, Brynn,” Jackson said as he grabbed Tara’s hand as they approached the other woman’s desk. “Since you missed the big anniversary party last weekend because you had the flu, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.”
When Brynn glanced up from her computer screen, he felt a slight resistance in Tara along with a sudden stiffening of her body and chalked it up to her normal unease in being introduced to yet another one of his colleagues. He would have thought after being surrounded by so many people in the industry at the gala, Tara would have been more comfortable meeting the people he worked with.
“Brynn, this is Tara Kent,” he said, waving a hand between the two women. “Tara, this is Brynn Howell.”
Jackson watched in confusion as Brynn stared at Tara in unm
istakable shock. Neither one of the women spoke for what felt like the longest time, the tension between them nearly palpable, until Tara finally broke the strained silence between them.
“Brynn,” Tara acknowledged tentatively, her wide blue eyes filled with uncertainty. “How are you?”
Brynn stood up but didn’t answer, the animosity transforming her features surprising in its intensity before she glanced back at Jackson. “You’re dating her?”
Beside Jackson, Tara flinched at the hostility behind the words. He frowned as he looked between the two women, trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of him.
“Do the two of you know one another?” he asked, suddenly feeling as though he was chartering a very rocky, emotional terrain.
“If you count the fact that she’s the drug addict who killed my brother, then yes, I know her,” she said, bitterness dripping from her voice. “I can’t believe someone like you is dating her. She’s nothing but trash.”
Jackson was so stunned by Brynn’s heated outburst that he was rendered momentarily speechless. It was a side to her he’d never seen before.
“Brynn . . .” Tara’s hand fluttered up to her throat. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” A caustic laugh escaped the other woman. “You’re the one who should have died that day, not Michael. And now you’re trying to be someone you’re not and insinuating yourself into a decent man’s life.” She turned to Jackson. “Mark my words. She’ll drag you into the gutter with her and ruin your life,” she said before spinning around and walking out on Tara without another word.
Oh, shit. It was as if he’d been hit by a train as it finally dawned on Jackson who Brynn was to Tara, but before he could respond or check on her, Walter came out of his office and moved toward them. “Is something wrong out here?” he asked brusquely, one part concerned, another clearly upset by the disturbance.
Tara shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she choked out and darted down the hall before Jackson could stop her.
Jackson took a step, intending to go after her, but Walter called his name. Jackson barely heard the man’s questions, and he quickly wrapped up the conversation, assuring him everything was fine. With his head spinning with what the fuck just happened, he rushed to find Tara and found her out by the elevators, frantically pushing the down button.
“Tara, stop,” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended, a direct result of the panic flowing through his veins.
The elevator doors slid open, and when she moved to bolt inside, he grabbed her arm and held her back, not wanting her to leave like this.
“Jackson, I have to go,” she pleaded, her voice as distressed as the angst in her tear-filled eyes. “I need to go.”
“And I need you to talk to me,” he said firmly, trying like hell to ignore the pounding of his heart. “What just happened back there?” He had a general idea, but this extreme reaction of hers worried him the most. Along with the fact that she was running away. From him.
She shook her head, the agonized expression on her face nearly killing him. “I don’t belong here.”
“What do you mean, here?”
“With you,” she said as those tears gathering in her eyes started rolling down her cheeks. “Brynn is right. You deserve someone better than me. I don’t fit into this world of yours and I never will.”
“Tara, that isn’t true.”
“Yes, it is. Don’t you see? I’ll never be free of my past. The terrible choices I made and the consequences I’ll live with forever. You deserve better than someone whose actions will come back to embarrass you in front of your colleagues and your boss. Someone who belongs in your world.” She choked out the words and hit the button to call the elevator once again.
The doors slid open a second time, and a blinding desperation clawed at him. “Tara—”
She stepped into the elevator just as Georgia came out of the office appearing genuinely contrite that she was interrupting him. “Jackson, I’m really sorry, but the call from Giles Patterson that you’ve been waiting for all morning is on line two.”
Fuck. Jackson clenched his jaw in frustration as his gaze locked with Tara’s as she stood inside the elevator, leaving him torn between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. It was an important phone call, potentially worth a fifty-million-dollar contract, and he couldn’t blatantly ignore Patterson or put him off. It would be career suicide to blow off a man of his caliber. Hell, even if Jackson had gone to lunch with Tara, he would have excused himself to take the call.
“Jackson?” Georgia said from behind him, forcing him to make a decision right then.
His gut churned at the choice he knew he had to make. As the doors to the elevator started to slide closed and he saw the anguish in her expression, Jackson prayed he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake he’d come to regret later.
“We’re not done, Tara,” he said gruffly, and then she was gone.
He meant what he’d said. Jackson wasn’t giving Tara up without the fight of his life. However, it remained to be seen whether or not she would calm down and come around.
* * *
Tara didn’t know where to go or who to turn to. She drove away from the office building where Jackson worked, her eyes blurry from her uncontrollable tears and her heart feeling as though it had just been cracked wide open and she’d never be the same again. Finding out that Brynn Howell worked at the same firm that Jackson did had been a definite shock to Tara’s system. The loathing and contempt that the other woman still held toward Tara for Michael’s death had been crushing.
But it had been Brynn’s harsh words that had slapped Tara in the face and validated all her greatest fears—that she’d never be good enough for a respectable, honorable man like Jackson. Her shameful past wasn’t something she could erase, and it would forever haunt her. She was also well aware that Jackson’s relationship with an ex–drug addict could potentially taint his reputation for making such questionable choices in the women he dated. She wasn’t the socially acceptable choice, she never would be, and there was no way she ever wanted to hurt Jackson or the career that meant so much to him.
She was an emotional mess and needed someone to talk to so she could clear her head and get a fresh perspective on the situation. She considered going to see Samantha, but she didn’t want to risk running into Clay on her day off, so instead she drove to Mason’s tattoo shop in hopes that Katrina was there.
Parking her car in an empty slot in front of Inked, she wiped away the moisture still on her cheeks and tried to gather her frayed composure. She glanced into the rearview mirror and cringed because she looked like crap. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin ruddy since she’d smeared away most of her makeup. But it wasn’t as though she was trying to impress anyone, so she got out of her vehicle and made her way inside the shop.
As soon as Katrina saw her, the other woman knew something was wrong. Her brows furrowed in concern as she grabbed Tara’s hands and asked one simple question—what’s wrong?—and Tara burst into a fresh batch of tears that left her sobbing and all her insecurities bubbling to the surface all over again.
“It’s . . . it’s Jackson,” she finally managed to say, embarrassed that a few of the clients in Inked had seen her meltdown.
Katrina opened her mouth to reply, but a deep, terse, masculine voice beat her to it.
“What did the asshole do?” Mason demand to know as he came out of his cubicle and walked toward the two of them. His shrewd gaze took in Tara’s tear-stained face and her devastated expression, and his entire body tensed.
“He didn’t do anything,” she said, defending him before Mason could leap to all kinds of wrong assumptions. And that was the crux of it all. None of this was Jackson’s fault. It was truly on her.
Mason jammed his hands on his hips, a fierce scowl shifting across his features. “Doesn’t fucking look like nothing to me.”
Katrina pursed her lips in annoyance. “Back off, He-Man,” she told
her husband. “She doesn’t need you going all caveman on her behalf. Sometimes a girl just needs another woman to talk to, no violence necessary.”
Mason didn’t look completely convinced, his protective stance not relaxing one bit. “I already warned Jackson that I’d kick his ass if he ever hurt Tara, and the fact that you’re crying and upset is enough to tell me that he did something stupid.”
“I swear he didn’t hurt me,” Tara said adamantly so Mason would calm down. If anything, she’d hurt Jackson or, at the very least, had embarrassed him in front of his bosses. By now, she was sure the entire firm knew of her involvement in Brynn’s brother’s overdose and death, and she just hoped that the bad decisions she’d made in the past didn’t do any damage to Jackson’s career or reputation.
“It’s what I did, not him,” she admitted quietly.
Mason shook his head, looking utterly perplexed. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t need to get it,” Katrina said, because clearly, she did understand.
He rolled his eyes at his wife. “Women are so fucking confusing,” he grumbled, and stalked back to his workstation.
“Come on,” Katrina said gently as she looped her arm in Tara’s. “Let’s go to the office, where it’s quiet and private and we can talk without a certain someone butting in and adding his two cents to the conversation.”
“I heard that,” Mason shouted from his cubicle.
“I meant for you to,” Katrina shot back without remorse as they walked toward the office.
The exchange made Tara smile, which she needed badly. She was also incredibly grateful for the alone time with her friend. Once they entered the office, Tara sat down in one of the small chairs, and Katrina made herself comfortable on the desk right in front of her.
Dirty Sexy Sinner Page 16
