by Joya Ryan
“What on earth was that?” I asked, when the door opened, and I walked into Jack’s house and straight into the living room.
Jack took an easy step in my direction, following me, leaving several feet of polished hardwood floor between us. With the wet bar at his back, and the massive couch off to the side in the living room, I had a momentary lapse in judgment while thinking of what my bare skin would feel like against that leather sofa.
“What was what?” he repeated my question. “You’ll have to be more specific. You know I hate vagueness.”
Irritation was already flooding me, and tequila or not, I wasn’t drunk. Just coming off a buzz, and not the alcohol-induced kind. One that involved two men, an odd meeting, and lots of questions. Jack’s condescension only poked my temper. A temper that hadn’t made an appearance in a long time.
Sure, I may be damaged. I may have some issues and fears, but I didn’t fear him in a way that made me cower. I feared him in a way that made me bold.
And that boldness was deciding, just then, to breathe.
“Specific?” I repeated, and took a step toward him.
He went behind the wet bar, pulled out two tumblers and poured a light brown liquid into them, facing me the whole time.
“What I specifically mean?” I asked, the sharp edge in my voice caught him, and he straightened, holding his glass and looking me in the eyes. “Let’s start with how you and Cal specifically walked outside, only to walk back in after a brief discussion, and he ended up leaving.”
“What would you like to me say that I haven’t already?”
I frowned and he took a drink. “Ah, I’d like you tell me what was said outside and why Cal left.”
“Did you wish him to stay?”
“No,” I said quickly, then rolled my eyes at his trick. “I mean, I didn’t mind him staying. I was already nervous with you there.”
“So, Cal makes you nervous too?” Now it was Jack who held sharpness in his voice, and he pulled it off way better than I did, because I actually flinched.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is now.”
I wanted to scream at the man, but held on to the tiny bit of composure I had. If I was going to get any answers from him, I needed to speak carefully and intently. The words spoken to me were always purposefully picked out and used as tools. He said them, then judged my reaction. It was my turn now, and the game was: Pushing Jack’s Buttons. It was the only way to figure out this mess.
“No,” I said in a raspy voice. “Cal doesn’t make me nervous. He brings out an entirely different emotion.” I took another step toward him, intentionally swishing my hips in a more provocative manner. His eyes zeroed in on the motion and that dark gaze turned to a glare.
“And what emotion might that be?”
Oh! Did he just growl a little?
“I want to know what was said outside,” I challenged.
He set his glass down hard enough to make a cracking sound. “And I want to know what Callum makes you feel.”
I held his stare for a long moment. Jack was a powerful man. Respected. If I wanted his respect back, I’d have to tell the truth.
“He makes me feel hopeful.” When he frowned hard, I finished with, “He makes me feel like life doesn’t have to be so hard. It can be fun and easy.”
“Yes. That is Callum.” Jack glanced down so quickly I almost missed it. He had told me on more than one occasion that I do that when I’m insecure. But there was no way the intense, steely millionaire could be anything but confident. “So, Callum makes you feel hopeful, and I make you feel nervous.” He smirked, but there was no humor. “Statistically speaking, smart money would be placed on a sure thing.”
I gasped. Not because he threw my own words I’d once said to him back at me, but at the dark tone that laced each word.
“You think hope is a sure thing verses nerves?” I shook my head. “Hope is the most dangerous thing to believe in.”
His jaw clenched, those endless night eyes eating me up with everything unsaid between us.
“Then again, believing in this kind of heat,” I gestured at him, “these nerves, or whatever you want to call them, is unrealistic as well. Eventually, heat dwindles, just like hope, does it not?”
When he didn’t answer, but simply stared at me, I shook my head. I was done playing, because I already felt like the loser.
“You know what? Think what you want. I didn’t know you two were friends. Just like I didn’t know what your intentions were with me until today.” I tilted my head. “Cal said you were both there. Did he mean that night at the bar when I met you? Was he there too?”
“Yes.”
A piece clicked into place. I may not have known they were friends, but this was obviously no shock to them. Something was boiling beneath the surface of this whole situation, and I felt like the rabbit in the pot. I may not be socially experienced in a lot of ways, but I knew when I was being left out of something.
“Why won’t you explain this situation to me?” I asked.
“There’s no situation.”
“So I’m to accept the fact that you and Cal are friends, and I just happened to kiss both of you?”
“That is what happened. What more explanation do you want from me? I wasn’t even there when you were with Cal. I didn’t push you toward him. He didn’t seek you out. Things played out how they did.”
A flare of doubt pierced my mind. Cal didn’t seek me out exactly. I had gone to the party.
“This just seems very convenient,” I whispered.
He scoffed. “I’d say it’s very inconvenient, actually.”
He was beyond good at talking in circles. So I’d use what he said to try to gain some ground in this conversation. The main issue right now was Jack and I and where we stood.
“You want me,” I stated. “Remember, you said that, no, proclaimed that in front of Cal and the damn bar, to which I got to spend the following two hours warding off questions from the office gossip about you and I and the ‘tall guy in the T-shirt who walked out.’ Funny thing, I couldn’t explain it, even if I wanted to, because you say nothing!”
“I say plenty. Perhaps you aren’t hearing it.” He grabbed the second tumbler of liquor.
I opened my mouth ready to scream, yell, curse him, then kiss him, and maybe claw at him a little, when it hit me.
He said he wanted me. Proclaimed it…
My chin trembled as my focus went back to his face. His painfully beautiful face that held so much hidden behind those black eyes. I was digging into an issue he clearly didn’t want to discuss. Cal and Jack were obviously close. The best I could determine was that I was a wrench thrown in by accident.
“I want you,” I said softly, and took another step. “My chest actually hurt the day after I met you.”
That got him to walk around the bar and take two long strides toward me.
“You want trust? So do I. What happened today? I want to know, so I can understand. Not so I can go running after Cal. Something was said, he left—”
“That’s what he does,” Jack said. “He has a job. It requires him to go at a moment’s notice.”
Somehow, I almost thought Jack had meant something else about Cal leaving. Harper had said a similar statement about Cal being a flight risk.
“I kissed him.” My eyes met his. He knew this, but this word play was getting to me. The brink I was teetering on was a narrow one. Deep in my gut, I had a feeling I could lose Jack, or keep him, for however long he’d have me…it just depend on these next few moments.
“I realize that.” He handed me the glass of liquor. I cupped the smooth tumbler in my hand. “What I’m more interested in is if this hope he makes you feel is something that I can’t work around. I don’t share. Not a single part of you, including your desires. When you’re on my time, that’s what you are: mine.”
His admission cut straight to the bones of me. He was honest, in such an intense way it was like a warning
. He took the notion of want to a new level, and I wanted to be his. So much so that, yes, once again, it made my chest hurt. Truth was, I didn’t want to share Jack either.
“I understand,” I said, with as much confidence as I could muster.
His dark eyes stayed on mine, silently asking me to continue. Instead, I took a moment and downed my liquor. This was going to take the kind of courage I didn’t quite have yet.
“Nothing like this has ever happened me. Cal may have been at the bar too, but I didn’t see him. I met you, then him. I was confused.”
“Like you said before, there were no commitments. I’m offering one now.”
I nodded. “Why do I feel the need to explain myself? Like I’ve done something wrong or wasn’t loyal.”
A flash of softness hit his expression. “You are a painfully loyal person, Lana.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because of how you move. How you interact with people. You keep your promises, and I saw the look in your eyes when Cal walked in. It was an unexpected and difficult situation to be instantly put in. But you gravitated toward me, yet kept him in your view. As if you didn’t want to upset either of us.”
I shook my head. “I don’t. I keep telling you, I’m not that girl. I barely know how to handle a single man.” And that was being generous. Jack was the majority of my intimate experiences.
“Let me absolve you of any guilt or questions you have.” He took the empty glass out of my hand. “What happened before my office is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. But from here on out, we move forward.”
I nodded. “How?”
“Simple.” Though the gleam in his eyes was anything but. “You agree to be with me and give me what I want, which is you. To fuck, to hold, to pleasure. I won’t be gentle or soft or relaxed. I will expect you to obey and respond to me. I want your trust and I want your body and you will enjoy it. If you desire anything, you come to me. Just like I will come to you. You will likely be nervous.”
He paused, and his grin shifted, because we both knew what “nervous” meant when it came to him. It meant hot.
“Understand one thing: I will push your limits, but I will never hurt you.”
He raised his chin, waiting for my response, which was nowhere to be found. I was too busy processing everything he’d just said. Everything he’d said at the bar. Everything he’d done in his office.
Yes, he made me feel nervous, strong, scared, and so pathetically needy I couldn’t walk away. Didn’t want to. He wasn’t a soft man. I didn’t need his admission to know that. But he was observant. In tune with me on a level that was like nothing I’d ever felt. He seemed to know what I needed to be comfortable. From giving me his jacket the first night I met him, to handling my body in a way that didn’t make me think of pain or past tainted memories.
He was in control, and would remain so. That was clear. It was also clear that there were reasons for that. Reasons I wanted to know, but that would take time. Figuring out earlier that he was learning me with every interaction would help with my goal: knowing him.
I wanted to know Jack. I was getting glimpses, but I really wanted to know him so intimately it was a need that rivaled the one I had for his body. But it would take time.
I frowned when that word repeated in my head: time.
“For how long?” I asked. “You make a lot of demands, but give no end date. How long do you want me as your captive?”
“Captive…” he put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ceiling, a slight smile playing over his face. Damn that thing. I’d only seen one full-blown smile, and it was on the night we met. It was a vision. “I like that. Lana Case: My Captive.” He looked back at me. “Why don’t we take this one day at a time?”
“So, you want all this commitment from me, and at any moment, you can discard me and—”
“I won’t discard you. We’re adults. We’ll have a conversation if our relationship shifts.”
“Why does this feel like an arrangement more than a relationship?”
“It’s both. I want to be clear with my brand of needs. Entering into any kind of relationship or arrangement without being up front would only give room for false expectations.”
“And you realized I’m not experienced with your brand of…”
“Fucking?”
“Yes.” God, did he have to sound so blasé and sexy all at the same time?
“Hence, my desire for you. You’ll learn. And I’ll teach you.”
“You said you don’t share?”
He shook his head, a venomous look in his eyes. This was one thing I needed to bring up, needed to stick to my gut on, because the truth was, “I don’t either.”
“Good.”
“So, you won’t be with anyone else?”
“While we’re together, it will be just us.” He moved closer so that the cup he held pressed against my stomach.
“Okay.”
The look on his face was victorious and predatory. I hadn’t just acknowledged his pledge, but this whole situation.
He was closing in, and I was already in over my head.
Chapter Nine
“Get undressed and lay on the bed,” Jack said, walking past me into his massive master suite.
I stood in the doorway, taking in every single color and fixture. The bed was large, so large that it put a California king to shame, and it was centered in the middle of the room, with floor to ceiling windows on each side. We were on the second floor, and the city lights twinkled through like a backdrop of stars against the night sky.
I took another step in and peeked around the corner to where he had gone. A bathroom, I thought. Next to it was another door, perhaps a closet? I didn’t waste much time thinking about it, because my eyes were back on the bed. Bright white sheets and pillows laid on the black four-poster bed that was against gray walls. It looked like a floating cloud amongst stormy skies.
The nightstands were black and on either side of the bed. Atop one was a box of condoms, as if awaiting my arrival. I swallowed hard and glanced around, looking at a large white chair nestled in the far corner, with a lamp on the opposite wall. It was simple, but clean and overwhelming.
Jack said my name in a deep tone that made my gaze snap from the bed to him. He stood near the foot of the bed, in nothing but black boxer briefs. “I told you to do something.”
My neck tightened, attempting to swallow. Reminding myself of my manners, I tried not to stare, but it was useless. The man was perfection. Tan skin that encased lean, cut muscles that made me want to lick his entire torso. The smallest trail of dark hair started just below his navel and disappeared behind the boxers.
His chest was strong, and broad shoulders led into chiseled biceps. Every ounce of him was hard and defined, and I suddenly felt lacking.
Sure, he’d seen me, well, parts of me, the other day in his office, but the confidence it took to stand nearly naked was something I didn’t have, nor was it an experience I’d ever partaken in.
He took a step toward me, and I watched his powerful legs flex. His bare feet against the hardwood floors made the tiniest squeaking sound.
“You’ve had sex before, correct?” he asked.
My gaze met his. “Yes.” Sort of. I didn’t want to go into Brock and that experience, nor the failed attempts with my college boyfriend. Yes, was the technical and easiest answer for me to give. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve mentioned your lack of experience, but you’re staring at me as if you’ve never looked at a man.”
That’s because I really hadn’t. Brock had snuck in and out of the shadows, my eyes squeezed shut the whole time. I’d blocked everything I could from that incident. And Andy was lights out and fumbling around, but no real sight or touching occurred.
But Jack?
I wanted to look, no, stare at him all night. Everything from his impressive body to the ridged bulge in his boxers was tantalizing.
“Sorry, I’ll stop star
ing,” I said softly, and hung my head.
“Don’t,” he snapped, making my neck do the same thing. His eyes zeroed in on mine. “Don’t hang your head, don’t look away, and don’t assume that what I just said was meant to make you cease what you were doing.”
He took another step. His voice softened an octave. “I like your eyes on me.”
That one statement was stripped of the dark tone that usually marred his words and warmed my soul. He gave off a glimpse of his softer side. A side he said he didn’t have. But I’d seen it. Felt it.
He’d considered my wellbeing, feelings, and comfort from moment one. It was why I held on. Why I let him push my limits, like now. Trying new things, especially with sex, should be terrifying. But Jack was with me. Would guide me. His rough words brought strength to my self-esteem, and whenever old habits of doubt and insecurity crept in, he was there to bat them away.
Yes, there was a raw softness to him. A protective instinct he had that I picked up on. I just had to concentrate to see it.
“You can look. But I still told you to do something. I expect you to do it. Unless,” he held his arm out and motioned to the door, “you’d like to leave and we end this now.”
I shook my head quickly.
He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps bulging, and stomach flexing like he was some Greek god.
“Then,” he said slowly, his gaze raking over me, “undress.”
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of my heels, my bare feet hitting the cool hardwood.
His eyes watched me intently. “You’re a tiny thing.”
He took another step, and I realized that Jack was just about a whole foot taller than me. Something he realized as well. But tiny? No. I had wider hips, fuller breasts and bottom, and they weren’t perfectly toned like the model at the bar slinging drinks or like his assistant.
And I was about to show all my flaws and shortcomings to a man who was likely used to such model types.
“Go on,” he said, coaxed.
There was a hint of gentleness that boosted my esteem just enough to reach behind me, unzip the back of my dress, and slide the straps down my arms.
