by Robin Kaye
He’d never seen anyone cook without the kitchen ending up looking like ground zero. His sister, Rocki, could make a mess just boiling water—he’d witnessed it. He didn’t know how Slater, Rocki’s fiancé, could stand it. Maybe he put a big Do Not Enter sign in the doorway of the kitchen. But if Slater felt about Rocki anywhere near what Jax felt for Kendall, he figured the fact that Rocki was the Terminator of kitchens and bars was just one of the things Slater loved about her.
Jax sat on the couch in the dark living room. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and had the urge to call his sister. They were close—closer than any other brother and sister he knew. She’d been the only person in the world that mattered to him—well, except for Grace and Teddy. That was, until he’d met Kendall. Kendall mattered. She mattered a whole lot. She mattered so much, it scared him.
He didn’t know what time it was; he didn’t even know what day of the week it was. He’d lost track. Rocki didn’t work Sundays and Mondays, and the rest of the week she and her band played from ten at night to two in the morning—that he remembered, he just didn’t know when that was. Maybe if he looked at the clock and just didn’t pay attention to the numbers, he’d figure it out. He stared at his watch and concentrated until his vision blurred. He needed to call Rocki. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to figure out what the hell to do about Kendall and the mess he’d made of his life.
Kendall touched his shoulder, and he jumped—he hadn’t even heard her. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”
“Headache.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to get you anything? Aspirin? Motrin? One of your pain pills?”
“No, but thanks. It’s probably just tension. It doesn’t make sense, but whenever I get frustrated, I end up with a wicked bad headache.”
She slid up behind him and rubbed his shoulders, “I’ve always heard that sex is an amazing tension reliever. What’s got you so keyed up?”
He didn’t think telling the truth—that he was terrified of losing her—would help anything. “I couldn’t sleep and started thinking. That’s never a good thing. I wanted to call my sister, but I don’t know what day it is—I’ve lost track. I don’t know what time it is. I’m just frustrated as hell.”
“It’s—let me think . . .” Firm hands kneaded his shoulder muscles. “It’s Sunday at about eleven o’clock, which is a little late to call. Whenever anyone calls after ten, I have a little heart attack, wondering who died. But you know your sister, so if she’s not the kind to mind, I’d be happy to dial her number for you.”
“No, that’s okay. Jaime programmed the numbers I need into the phone. You know, the hospital, nine-one-one, his number, my sister’s.”
Her thumb dug into the muscle where his shoulder connected to his neck. It hurt like hell, but in a good way. He groaned. “Hold on a minute. I need some lotion. Your shoulders and neck are in knots.”
“Lotion?”
“Yeah, it reduces friction.”
He dropped his chin to his chest and felt the strain. A second later, warm, slick hands slid over his shoulder, and the scent he always associated with Kendall surrounded him.
“There. Isn’t that better?”
Great, now he was not only frustrated and worried; he was horny. “Sweetheart, are you trying to kill me?”
“No, I’m trying to relax you.”
“That lotion smells like you. And I can’t be in the same room with you and not want you. There’s one part of my anatomy that’s anything but relaxed.”
“Because of my lotion?”
“No, it’s the scent of you mixed with the lotion that kills me. I love rubbing against you and getting your scent all over me. This way isn’t as much fun.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun; it’s supposed to be relaxing. I’ll buy unscented next time I get out to a store, or maybe I’ll spring for real massage oil.”
A picture of Kendall covered with massage oil filled his mind, as he pictured his hand slipping over her breasts, her belly, her thighs, and making love to her, all wet and slippery and hot.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Huh?” Her hands on him felt fantastic. She had strong extremely talented hands—when she’d squeezed his cock earlier, he’d nearly come.
“You groaned like you were in pain.”
“No, not pain exactly. It’s more like a cross between heaven and hell. Ecstasy and misery.”
“I like the heaven and the ecstasy part—it’s the hell and misery we need to work on.”
“I was just imagining making love to you with you all covered in massage oil, our bodies sliding against each other, so hot, so slick, so hard.”
She pressed something rigid against the knot on his shoulder and let out a groan of her own, whether from excitement or effort. He also didn’t know what the hell she was jabbing him with. Her elbow? She leaned forward and put her weight on it. Her breasts pillowed the back of his head. It hurt like hell, but after a second the muscle seemed to relax. “There you go.” She massaged the spot lightly with her fingertips, removing any residual tension, and then repeated the process on his other shoulder.
He sucked in air through his teeth and waited out the pain. “Where’d you learn to do this?”
“One of the physical therapists I know at the hospital teaches massage part-time. Therapeutic massage, sensual massage for couples—she even teaches animal massage.”
“What kind did you learn?” He leaned forward, and she ran a slick thumb between his shoulder blade and spine. It felt so good, it should be illegal. So good it earned another groan from him that had nothing to do with the problem he was having in his pants.
“Therapeutic and sensual. I don’t have pets. She taught me, and then we’d take turns giving each other massages—you need someone to practice on.”
“You practiced sensual massage on a woman?” He pictured Kendall rubbing her hands all over a woman’s naked body. He’d always thought it would be a turn-on, but with Kendall it wasn’t. He didn’t want her hands on any body but his.
“Couples are supposed to practice on each other, but David wasn’t into it. So Joni taught me the sensual massage class more in theory and description than in practice.”
That was a relief. “Were you naked?”
“I practiced therapeutic massage on Joni, and she practiced on me—not that she needed the practice, but fair is fair. And, no, while receiving a massage, you’re not naked. You’re on a table under a sheet.” Kendall put more lotion in the palms of her hand and rubbed them together and started working the muscles of his upper back in earnest.
He leaned forward a bit more and hoped she’d never stop. “But you’re naked under the sheet, right?”
“Yes, but you’re covered.”
“It doesn’t matter—you’re still naked.”
“So? The person giving the massage is dressed.”
“Not in my imagination, you’re not.”
“You have a very dirty mind.” Her voice got that raspy-breathy tone he remembered very well, and he figured she had a very dirty mind too.
“That doesn’t sound like a complaint.”
“It’s not.”
He reached around, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her in front of him. She wore nothing but his T-shirt, the one he’d tossed into the great unknown in his haste to get naked. Damned if she didn’t look better in it than she did in one of those silky gowns. He splayed his legs and pulled her closer. His face was right at boob level, and his hands grabbed a firm handful of her incredible ass. He’d hardly had time to explore her—he figured it could take days or weeks to learn all her curves. He slid hands from the thigh to waist and back, teasing the crack. “How are you feeling?” He nuzzled her breasts.
She rubbed his neck and pulled his face to her breasts more firmly.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
“I’m good. Thanks to you, my headache is just about gone. What about you? Are you sore?” Even in the dim light he could see that she b
lushed to the roots of her hair. God, she was sweet. “Here?” He slipped his hand between her thighs and sucked in a breath. “You’re so wet, you’re dripping.”
She dropped her head to his shoulder.
“What’s got you so hot?”
“Touching you.”
He slipped a finger inside her, and her muscles tightened around it. “Are you sore?”
“No, but I ache.” She spoke into his shoulder
“You’re sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” His thumb slid over her, and her body gripped his finger like a fist. “So responsive.”
He reached into the pocket of his jeans while he slid another finger into her. “Take the shirt off. I want to see you.”
Jax ripped the condom wrapper with his teeth, tossed it on the floor, popped the buttons on his jeans, and pushed them down below his knees.
Kendall stood in front of him naked, watching him roll down the condom. “Climb up here, sweetheart, straddle me, and let’s christen this couch.”
“But . . .”
“I don’t want to hurt you. This way, you’re in total control. You can take me any way you want. You can make yourself come any way you want.” He slid down the seat a little more and helped her, until she was kneeling over him. “Have you ever made love like this?”
“No.”
“Just hold on to my shoulders and lower yourself on me. I have a feeling you’re going to love it.”
“But what about you?”
“I love being with you, in you.”
He watched as her body joined with his—it was so hot. He clenched his teeth, held his breath, and prayed for control. The look of ecstasy that crossed her face almost sent him over. She took him in slowly, going deeper with each movement, experimenting with the angle of her body. He knew the second she found her G-spot. Her eyes shot open and glowed in the dim light, she made that sound deep in her throat that made him crazy, and her nails dug into his shoulders.
He gripped her hips, helping her, following her lead, lifting her on the retreat, until she took all of him. Her hand pressed against her stomach as she rocked forward, pressing her pelvis into his, and then she went wild in his arms.
As she rode him, eyes closed, back arched, her hair flowing around her in midnight waves, one hand went to her breast and the other around his neck, drawing him closer.
He sucked her breast into his mouth. He was so afraid he’d finish before she did, he took emergency precautions, sucking in time with the swirl of his thumb over the taut, swollen flesh where they were joined.
“Jack,” Kendall’s eyes met his, and he watched her soar.
He took over, keeping her rhythm and drawing out her climax, thrusting, lifting, grinding. And when she came again, he followed her over.
She lay, boneless, draped over his shoulder like a rag doll. “Wow. I didn’t know . . . I mean, that was so . . .”
It seemed as if the only muscles he could move were his lips, so he smiled against her breast. “That was all you, sweetheart.” He’d never forget the look on her face when she took charge of her own pleasure. “So beautiful.”
“I guess all those squats I did in the gym actually were good for something.”
He kicked off his pants, stood, and carried her back to bed.
*
Jax brought in an armful of wood and threw it in the copper holder. “There’s probably two feet of snow out there, and it’s still falling.”
He leaned against the wall and watched Kendall working in the kitchen. Just watching Kendall move was quickly becoming his second-favorite pastime. The first was making her scream.
Kendall reached for something on a high shelf and her ass cheeks peeked out from under his shirt, and he nearly groaned. He’d tried to talk her into cooking naked, but she didn’t fall for it. She said frying bacon could be hazardous. “The good news is, the roof isn’t leaking.”
“Dad will be happy.”
“Not when he finds out about us, he won’t.” He’d seen Teddy unhappy, disappointed, and even angry. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Teddy after he found out he and Kendall had been occupying the same cabin.
She shot him an over-the-shoulder smile. “How do you know? I think my parents are going to love you.”
“If I were your father, I’d break both my legs.” Lord knew, if he ever had a daughter who looked like Kendall, he’d follow her around with a shotgun.
“Daddy’s just a big, old teddy bear.”
Wow, she really didn’t have a clue. The Teddy he knew was so far from a Teddy bear, it was laughable. Not that he wasn’t a great guy; Jax loved him like a father, but, shit, he’d heard about what Slater had gone through when he started seeing Rocki, and Rocki wasn’t even Teddy’s baby girl.
“You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Daddy. It’s my mother who can be scary. She looks like the world’s sweetest woman—and she usually is—but she has a way of breaking people. She’s a master of psychological torture and guilt.”
“Good to know.” Or should he say thanks for the reminder? He’d been on the wrong side of Grace a time or two, and Kendall was right about the psychological warfare and well-targeted bombing strikes using the oldest weapon out there: guilt.
Kendall jumped when he came up behind her and kissed her neck. “That’s not going to help me get breakfast on the table.”
“I’m good with Wheaties if there’s something else you’d rather do than cook.”
“I don’t eat food out of cardboard boxes, and someone ate all the leftover pizza.”
He slid his finger round and round her navel, because he knew it drove her wild. “I had to keep up my strength. And you should be happy I ate the leftover salad too. You were right—it was good.” He nipped her ear. “Can I do anything to help?”
She groaned and wiggled her bottom against his fly. “Leave me to make breakfast.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was eyeing the counter and wondering how she felt about kitchen sex. “Tired of me already?”
“No, it’s just that you’re too distracting.”
“You think I’m distracting? You’re the one strolling around in nothing but my shirt. Who’s distracting who here?” When he spun her around, she looked entirely too pleased to know she was driving him crazy. He loved that little hitch in her breath right before he kissed her.
Jax took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly, slowly, and thoroughly. Memorizing the feel of her cheeks against his palms, the sounds she made in the back of her throat, the taste of her. There was something about her that drew him in—an overarching sweetness that brought him to his knees. All it took was one kiss, and he was lost. One kiss, and he knew if he slid his lips down her neck, he’d feel her pulse race against his lips. One kiss, and she’d melt against him. One kiss, and she was his for the taking.
When he raised his mouth, her eyes were dark and unfocused. “Damn, but you’re addictive.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
“Kendall?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sweetheart, something’s burning.”
Her eyes opened so wide, it was almost comical—that is, until she pushed him away. The scent of burnt butter filled the space between them. “Get out!” She grabbed the pan with a pot holder and headed toward the sink. “See? I told you you’re too distracting. Get out.”
“Where do you want me to go? We’re in the middle of a nor’easter.”
“I didn’t mean go out. I meant get out of the kitchen. Go . . . go build something.”
“Fine.” He went back to the bedroom and grabbed another T-shirt, put on his work boots, and went to figure out what to do with the first bedroom. The ceiling wasn’t going to replace itself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kendall shoved the kitchen window open to let in air. She couldn’t believe she’d let Jack distract her enough to burn the butter.
While Jack might be fine with a bowl o
f Wheaties, she wasn’t. She stifled a shiver.
Kendall had awakened in an empty bed last night, starving—unfortunately, before she could get anything to eat, Jack had distracted her—again. She hadn’t eaten a thing since their early dinner, and Lord knew she’d burned enough calories. She wasn’t sure how many, but she imagined that sex with Jack would burn quite a few.
When it came to sex, Jack was a man who demanded participation—something she really appreciated. Especially last night.
Kendall had never made love like that. She’d never been in charge of her own pleasure or her partner’s. Even though she had no idea what she was doing, Jack hadn’t made her feel like she was lacking. He just led her through the steps of a new dance until she found her own rhythm and let her take over, never trying to direct her. Letting her discover the secrets and pleasures of control. He never made her feel foolish or embarrassed. Just the opposite: he supported her and gave her the time to experiment, and when she figured it out, she’d never felt so free, so uninhibited, so powerful. It took a while, but Kendall had slowly taken all Jack had to give, and when they were so close she didn’t know where she stopped and he began, she looked into his eyes and saw everything—the wonder, the fear, the excitement, the need, the lust, the sense of connection. She saw every feeling she felt for him reflected back at her. She didn’t know what to label what it was between them, but she knew it was strong, it was freeing, it was fun, and it was something she wanted to keep close to her heart forever.
Kendall went back to cooking, and after a few minutes, she heard the high-pitched squeal of a saw. She concentrated on turning the bacon and sausage while she put together her favorite breakfast comfort food: almond French toast. Twenty minutes later, she had breakfast on the table and called out, “Jack, food’s on.”
He came out of the spare bedroom, brushing off a layer of sawdust that stuck to his arms and chest. He was dressed in his work jeans, boots, and an old T-shirt that was practically see-through, and he blinked at the food on the table. “Sweetheart, it’s not as if I don’t appreciate you cooking like this—I mean, it’s great—but I don’t want you to feel as if you have to.”
