by Amy Gamet
"You were laughing, and he was looking at you like he wanted to see you naked, and I knew every thought in his head. I wanted to punch him in the jaw and carry you out of there over my shoulder.”
Jessa dropped her eyes to his chest.
He reached up and gently touched her cheek, lifting her face to his. "I didn't want him looking at you like that. I didn't want him looking at you at all."
"He wasn't doing anything wrong."
"No, he wasn't. Not like I want to do." With that, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, a gentle, seductive kiss that promised so much more if she was willing.
"We were supposed to have a truce," she said.
"I know."
"I was looking forward to it.”
He pushed his nose lightly against hers, putting her mouth in position for his kiss once again. "We can have the truce now."
He nipped at her lips with his own, teasing her, and she wanted him to kiss her for real. How could she want that? Did she have no self-respect?
"This doesn't feel like a truce," she said. "This feels like you're winning."
"Let me make love to you tonight, and I promise you we’ll both win.”
His words had her melting inside, but she was scared. The first time they had sex, she expected to find it unpleasant and had been shocked when her body responded to his with such force. She hadn't wanted to feel that way, had simply wanted him to take his pleasure and leave her be.
Now she wanted the whole package. Because if she was going to sleep with Jax again, she had to accept it would be pleasurable.
Immensely pleasurable.
The stress of the last few days was catching up to her. Images of Ralph floated through her mind, she and Ralph together, Ralph and Jax tucked into a drawer in Jax’s office. Could she simply let him be forgotten? Could she move on to his best friend and let go of the guilt that threatened to drown her?
I want it so badly.
She thought about what it would mean. Making love to Jax. Letting herself touch and be touched. Deliberately making him feel good, letting him overpower her if he wished. She took a deep breath in and held it, her eyes searching his. Would he be patient with her? Would he let her find her own physical release as she was able, or would he force his hand, making her feel exposed and vulnerable as she had in the hotel?
You felt those things because you didn't want to enjoy being with him. Are you ready to let him touch you, let him stroke your sensitive places, and trust him with your response?
Her heart beat rapidly with anticipation.
Oh, yes.
She was ready. She'd gone too long without the joy of sex, the electric and spiritual connection to another human being, the animalistic dedication to touch and physical release. She knew this man was capable of making her body sing, and she craved him like the cracked earth craves water.
"I'm scared," she said.
"I know." He lightly ran his fingers through her hair. "But you don't have to be."
The sensation of his short nails against her scalp made her purr, and she let her eyes close, then reached out and touched his chest. He was warm and solid beneath her hands, the beating of his heart palpable through his skin, the air heavy with the scent that was uniquely his.
He was flesh and blood, stimulus and response. He was alive, and she longed to hold him inside her. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and pulled him toward her, lifting her head and kissing him full on the mouth.
He tasted like tea, and it struck her that the last time they’d had sex, he'd been drunk. Would he be the same kind of lover he had been then? Or would he be more mechanical, less sensual?
The idea gave her pause, but no sooner had she thought it than he took control of the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth and teasing her just as she remembered.
His arms were around her waist, and his hands came up to stroke her back, the sensation quieting the questioning voice in her head. She felt warm desire unfurling inside of her. She wanted to enjoy every touch, every experience she was given before moving on to the next one, like savoring a box of chocolates.
She dropped her head to his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him before trailing kisses from his collarbone to his ear. He moaned, the deep tenor of his voice vibrating the muscular column of his neck beneath her mouth.
He grabbed the back of her head and brought her face to his. She felt completely exposed, totally at his mercy.
"I want you in my bed," he said, taking her hand and pulling her behind him. They passed the guest room with her bindings atop the sheets, and she looked forward to giving them a try another time. Right now she wanted to lie between the covers that smelled of him, her bottom in the curve of the mattress where he slept night after night, wanted to see what that space was like.
At the end of the long hallway, he pushed open the door into a room full of windows, the blue glow of moonlight streaming through their panes. In the center of the room was a wide, tall bed with thick posts of twisting wood. She walked to a bedpost, her hand running along the carved spiral, and Jax came up behind her, pulling back her hair and kissing her neck. She arched her back, looking for him, and he fitted himself against her bottom.
She could smell the earthy spice of cinnamon mixed with soap, cologne, and the essence of him on the air. Jax lifted her shirt and she raised her arms, allowing him to pull it over her head. Then he eased her bra straps down to her elbows, leaving a trail of sensation across her shoulders and arms.
She wanted more of him, wanted his hot skin beneath her hands and her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. She spun around.
"Oh, yes," murmured Jax, taking her breasts in his hands and teasing her nipples to attention.
She was tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and over his head with hasty fingers, desperate to feel skin on skin. She pushed the sides of his shirt back over his shoulders and down to his forearms, the fabric temporarily keeping him restrained.
She looked her fill at his impressive chest, sculpted muscle rolling over bone. Then she moved lower, lightly caressing him and taking his nipple into her mouth before loosening the buckle at his waist. She freed him of his belt and unzipped his fly, nuzzling his hard cock with her face and lips through the fabric of his briefs.
Jax swore under his breath and hauled her up, pushing her backwards onto the bed and climbing on top of her. She spread her legs, welcoming him between them as her breathing got heavier with need. He felt so good pressing her down, the weight of him alone enough to make her weep with joy, and she writhed against him, desperate for more.
He removed her bra and the newly developed fullness of her breasts made them fall to the side, heavy and tender.
He spoke just inches from her ear, his voice husky and rough. "I love the changes in your body. That I did this to you.”
She loved sharing herself with him, her body and every bit of what was taking place inside her. It was as if by allowing herself to be with this man, she was letting him into her pregnancy, into her life, and there was no going back.
He took one breast in his hand and measured its fullness with his palm, lightly squeezing her before taking her tip in his mouth and tasting her with his tongue. She bucked wildly beneath him. He opened wide and took more of her in his mouth, and she called out and pulled his head tightly against her.
"You're so sensitive," he said. His hand slipped between her legs and pressed against her swollen mound. "Are you sensitive here, too?"
She made a funny noise as she pressed back against his hand. "Yes.” The sound of her voice was breathy and desperate to her ears.
Then he was taking off her pants and pulling at her panties. She opened her legs for him again and he settled on top of her, naked. The feel of his erection pressed against her pushed her over the top. She wanted him inside of her, wanted to see if it was as good as she remembered, and she pressed her head back against the pillow.
Then he was kissing her, deep, despera
te kisses, and she kissed him back with the urgency that was building between her legs. His cock was poised at her entrance, and she thought she might die if he didn’t get inside of her.
“Now, Jax. I need you.”
"Open your eyes."
She forced her heavy lids apart, Jax’s intense gaze fastening itself to her stare.
He eased inside of her, his girth forcing her wide open, and she called out in pleasure from the sensation. She'd forgotten what sex was like during pregnancy, the heightened sensitivity and the puffy feel of her womanly walls around him.
Ralph had loved it.
"Do you feel how swollen I am?” she asked Jax. “How tight?"
"God, yes."
“It's because of the baby. Your baby growing deep inside of me, Jax."
He groaned loudly, thrust into her deeper, harder. “God, you feel so good. Am I hurting you?"
"No.” She dug her nails into his back. “I want more."
His deep, torturous thrusts forced her body to accommodate his size and set off an avalanche of feeling inside her. She screamed softly. He reached under her arms and held her shoulders in his hands, holding her still while he thrust himself hard and fast into her body.
Her orgasm exploded like a thousand scattering pieces, then Jax was coming, too, his cock buried to the hilt inside her, emptying his seed at the entrance to her womb once more.
34
Jessa lay in the darkness, listening to Jax’s even breathing and stroking his head. Tonight had been everything she had hoped for, and everything she feared. She could feel herself warming to this man and knew she would be unable to confine the feeling to the bedroom.
Would that be so bad?
She closed her eyes. It felt good to be loved. Physically and emotionally.
Is that what you think this is?
She was such a fool.
Jax didn't love her. He had never even pretended to care for her. If anything, his feelings for her leaned more toward hatred and contempt, and she didn't blame him for that. She'd done him a terrible disservice.
She frowned, examining her guilt, and she did feel guilty. Somehow over the past few days, she had come to know that tricking him as she did was wrong, no matter what she’d lost or who was ultimately responsible. Tears burned the backs of her eyes as she thought of her lost husband and child.
Jax hadn't wanted those things to happen. He had loved Ralph, too, and he would have protected them if he could have.
It had been Ralph's decision to go after Steele. The tears welled up in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks, quickly disappearing into Jax’s pillow. As much as she wanted to have someone to blame, she knew in her heart Jax had made the best decision he could with the information available to him.
Of course he had. He was a good leader, and he wouldn't have let his friendship with Ralph get in the way of a good tactical decision.
She was weeping openly now, holding on to Jax and praying he didn't wake up. She didn't know what she could possibly say to him to make him understand she was sorry for what she had done. Not sorry for the child but for her duplicity.
Jax stirred, and lifted his head. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head quickly.
"You’re crying."
She cried harder, her quiet, shaking tears now loud, quaking sobs. "I shouldn't have done this. At the time, it seemed right, like the only thing that would serve up some kind of justice." She shook her head. "But it was wrong, and I'm so sorry for what that's done to you."
"Are we talking about tonight?" he asked.
She laughed through her tears. "No. Tonight was great. The first time." She met his eyes. "At the hotel. I was so lonely, Jax. I was so lonely, for so long. And then, there you were, and I blamed you, and I let myself forget you are human. That you had feelings, that you loved him, too." She rested her forehead against his. "It was so much easier to tell myself it was all your fault. I needed a villain, and you became my scapegoat.”
He touched her cheek. "I understand."
"Then you brought me here, and I could see you weren't a villain at all, which meant I’d done something terribly wrong.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. You’re going to be a father. Your life will be different forever because of what I did.”
“My life will be better.”
She looked up, not believing what she’d heard. “What?”
“I’m starving. Do you want some ice cream?” He grinned and rolled out of bed, looking for his clothes.
She sat up, pulling the blankets up to cover herself as she stared at his naked body. “How will your life be better, Jax?”
“I always wanted kids.”
“But like this?” She swallowed. “With me?”
He pulled on his briefs and jeans, his face unreadable. “It isn’t how I thought things would work out, if that’s what you mean.” He pulled on his shirt. “But I like you. I always have. Come on. I have chocolate and vanilla. There might even be some whipped cream.”
What about you and me, Jax?
Her mind was screaming the question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Do you have any chocolate syrup?”
He smiled, and the transformation of his face was mesmerizing. “A woman after my own heart,” he said.
At that exact moment, the bedroom window shattered into hundreds of pieces. Jessa heard herself screaming, but Jax was already in action, pulling her to a stand and quickly out of the room. Then it was dark, and he said, "Sixteen steps. Ready?" And she was being led down a blackened staircase, counting the steps as she went, to a musty room beneath the main floor.
A basement?
He was talking to someone as he pulled her through the space. "Someone fired at the bedroom window. Jessa is unhurt. I'm putting her in the safe room now. You two come in through the back of the house."
There was the screeching sound of metal on metal, then a light came on inside a small room with a couch, table, and four chairs. He grabbed a blanket and thrust it at her, reminding her she was naked, and she pulled it around her shoulders.
"Stay here,” he said, placing the book she inherited on the table. She hadn’t even noticed he grabbed it. “Lock the door when I leave. This is a safe room. No one will be able to get in unless you let them in."
"What about you?" she asked, surprised to hear her voice trembling.
"I have to help the others. There are clothes in the closet.” He walked to a corner and unlocked a gun cabinet, but it was the back of his shirt that got her attention.
"Jax, you're bleeding!"
"I'm fine."
"But there's so much blood…"
He turned around. “Remember to lock it. Don't let anyone in.”
She nodded her head vigorously, then watched in horror as he disappeared back into the blackness, and she locked herself inside the safe room with trembling hands.
35
Jax was wishing he had his night-vision monocular as he made his way up the steps and out of the basement.
Hawk’s voice sounded in his ear. “One tango, thirty yards outside the front door and approaching fast. I'm a hundred yards behind him. He has a semiautomatic and plenty of ammo. I can reach him from here, but it won’t be a kill shot.”
"Negative," snapped Cowboy. "I have a good line of sight to the front door from inside the house. I'll take him out."
Whoever was after Jessa needed to be stopped once and for all, and Jax knew damn well there were probably more tangos out there just waiting to come in after this one.
He reached the top of the basement stairs and hunkered down, crawling on his hands and knees. If their attacker was coming in the front door, he'd have plenty of time to cover Cowboy’s six.
He felt light-headed and knew his injury was more severe than he first suspected. He was losing blood quickly, which meant it was just a matter of time before he lost consciousness.
Thank God Jessa was in the safe
room. Jax’s vision went dim, then returned again. He put his finger on the trigger of his weapon, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to kill the bastard.
He had to kill him for Jessa.
His mind was full of her, their night together, and the baby. A flash of Jessa as a mother, nursing their infant at her breast. His eyes closed and his head dipped, then he snapped it back up and opened his eyes, forcing his arms to hold up his weapon.
It was heavier than he could fathom.
"Cancel that!" yelled Hawk in his ear. “Tango is headed for the bedroom window. Copy that? Not for the front door, the same bedroom window he shot out. And we have another tango thirty yards out.”
Jax’s brain struggled to make sense of the words. His vision was now completely out of focus, and he couldn’t bring it back. He looked up just in time to see a figure jump through the window over his head, but the swift movement made everything go black. He heard the sound of the other man’s steps on the breaking glass and wondered how much time had passed.
He fought to open his eyes and failed. He had to stay awake, had to get Jessa out of danger once and for all. This time his eyes opened, the shadow of a man standing over him. Jax took the shot. A bright flash from the muzzle of the tango’s gun was the last thing Jax saw before losing consciousness.
36
Dear God, this book is boring.
Jessa laid The Manor open, facedown on her lap, and looked at Jax. He was sleeping as he had been for the last several hours since his surgery. He'd lost a lot of blood, but they'd managed to save his injured kidney.
He was going to be okay.
When Cowboy came and got her from the safe room, she instantly knew something was wrong. Jax should've been there. He wouldn't have sent anyone in his stead unless he wasn't able to come himself.
“Let me in, Jessa.”
“Where’s Jax?”
“He can’t come down here right now, sweetie. Open the door.”
She unlatched the lock and pulled open the heavy metal door. One look at Cowboy’s face, and she’d started to scream. "No! This isn't happening again. This is not happening again!”
