“Once we got through that, it was a piece of cake, except the guy was crafty about hiding his identity. Despite all the angles Kate had surveillance cameras in, we never got a clear shot to ID him. So we had to be careful. Once we made your location, I rappelled down from the roof because the fire escape was broken, but I was in place just as he returned, and I couldn’t get a clear shot without killing you or Kate. Chase and Charlotte were both in place to take the shot from different angles on the adjacent roof, but we couldn’t get one until you lured him to the bed.”
“He went for groceries and came back.” Tia looked so small in his front seat, pleading, like a child not wanting to go to the dentist.
Jake sighed. He wished like hell they could have taken him then. He would have done anything to spare her the pain of luring that man to bed with her. Even to save Kate. “We weren’t sure it was him. Chase is a stickler like that. He couldn’t shoot until he knew for sure. And we weren’t in place that long before he returned. Like I said, we had problems.”
He looked at her. Her dark curls were tangled, blood smudged on her chin and cheek. But she was alive, and so heartbreakingly beautiful he had to fight to breathe. “Did Kate know who he was?”
“She said he was from your first mission together. He was the guard she didn’t kill, and he was at the airport when you came back from Paris. He started following her after that.”
“Damn.” He glanced at her again. “Please tell me that if you’re being tailed, you’ll be smart enough to let Chase handle it?”
“I promise.”
“Good. Because I can’t go through this again.” They parked in the parking garage next to the elevator, and Jake got out and pulled over a wheel chair. He opened her door and gestured to the seat. “Get in, on, whatever.”
“Can’t I walk?”
“No, and I can’t carry you forever. You’re light, but I’m tired. I need another vacation from my one day back at work.” Monday had been stressful—a ten mile run, then up all night in the office finding them. He didn’t know how much more he could take. He was only human.
She sighed and slid into the chair. He wanted to hold her, make love to her for hours and hours, but instead he did the husband thing. The right thing. He touched her shoulder, she looked up, and he dropped a quick, possessive kiss on her lips. “Let’s get you stitched up, and we’ll find out about Kate.”
****
After a round of steri-strips to seal her wound, antibiotics, and blood work, Tia had been released under Jake’s watchful eye. They had seen Chase in the hallway briefly, barely under control. Kate was still unconscious, and they were running tests. He’d been grateful for all Tia had done, which made her blush hotly and want to squirm. She’d done what she had to do, nothing more.
Jake took her to his apartment, which was nothing like the farmhouse. This was all bachelor and contemporary with not a single bit of eyelet lace or flowered quilt in sight. It made her wonder who decorated the farmhouse, or if this was yet just another separation between work and home.
“Did Chase text you yet?”
Jake carried her in and deposited her on the leather sofa. He looked at his phone, and scanned the screen with a questioning look. “Yeah. Kate’s in surgery. The baby is fine, but Kate has appendicitis. He’ll text us later, when she’s out, but everything is going to be fine. She even woke long enough to send him home for her ring.”
“Miracles do happen,” she murmured as Jake covered her with a blanket. He’d probably want to go, to be with his friends now. “Shouldn’t you go back, and be with him?”
“His aunt showed up. She’s the equivalent of his mom. He’ll be fine. You need me more. You hungry?” Before she could say anything, he was gone, out in the kitchen, rustling around. He came back a few minutes with a sandwich for both of them. “Tuna. Not my favorite, but I don’t have much food in the house, and I’m not leaving you.”
“That’s fine.” She picked at it, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but she wasn’t very hungry. She just wanted to sleep and forget.
“You’re not fine.” He frowned. “Would you like a shower? The doctor said you could have one, if you don’t get the steri-strips too wet.”
“Whatever you want, Jake.”
He drew in a sharp breath but picked her up again, ignoring her protests as he strode to the bathroom. He slammed the toilet seat closed, deposited her there, and began stripping her.
She batted his hands away. “I can do this.”
“No, you can’t. Just let me, okay?”
“Whatever you wish.”
He stripped her and tucked her into the warm shower on a seat at the end. He followed, naked. He washed her gently, his hands massaging, kneading, washing her hair, rinsing, applying conditioner. Who knew a guy cared about conditioner?
His hand slid between her legs and he washed her with a cloth, so impersonal she wanted to cry. She wasn’t aroused but she wanted him, needed him to make love to her so she’d forget the pain of the morning. For a change, he showed no interest, just gentle compassion as he toweled her dry and wrapped her hair in another towel. He encased her into one of his clean T-shirts and then into his huge bed.
He slipped onto the bed and wrapped her discreetly in his arms so nothing important brushed anything of hers that was equally important. He kissed her neck and then said nothing, his body so still. He had to be exhausted. At least she’d been unconscious for part of the night. He’d been awake and tense.
And as he held her, the numbness she’d felt since he carried her down the four flights of stairs, wrapped in a sheet started to fade. Pain returned on the heels of fear, along with some other emotion she couldn’t name.
“Tia, what’s wrong. You’re shaking.”
Was she? She didn’t realize it until he said something. Her entire body quivered against him, the nerve endings so sensitive under her skin. Her mind raced back to everything she said, everything she had done, and she bit back a moan of pain. Disgust. How could she have said all that to Asshole? That she wanted to come as he killed her, that she wanted her blood on his sheets…
The sad thing was there was a time she would have wanted that. All of that. Jake’s love had made her see the difference. Pain like that wasn’t healthy.
She
wasn’t healthy.
“Shh,” Jake said.
Was she saying something? And then she realized she was whimpering, still shaking, and tears flooded her cheeks, rolled down her nose, dripped in her ears. Her teeth chattered. So cold, and the shaking hurt. Why wouldn’t it stop?
“I feel so dirty,” she whispered in between sobs. “Make it stop.”
“Oh, honey,” Jake breathed in her ear, kissing her cheek. “I’d do anything to stop the pain.”
“Make love to me. One last time. Please.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, I don’t plan on letting you go.”
Oh, no way was she staying now. If he loved her, she couldn’t taint him with how dirty she was. She was sick, a sick woman, and despite hating herself, she needed him more. She rolled so she faced him and pulled at his shoulders. “Make love to me. Please. Now.”
“Let’s just go to sleep, honey. In the morning you’ll feel like a new woman. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m a masochist. It already hurts.” She drew his head down to hers and kissed him then, letting him into her mouth, her soul, pouring out the pain, the sorrow. He resisted, trying to pull away, and she kissed harder, angling under his hard body, his erection firm between her legs. “Jake. Give in. I need this. I need you to erase his touch. His words. My words. Please.”
His jaw shifted, and not in a stubborn way as he stared down at her. “I love you. I was so scared for you.” He kissed her lips then, so gentle, yet fierce at the same time. He kissed her chin, now clean but raw from where Asshole’s knife had dug into her. Then he kissed her chest over another wound, and then lower, his mouth claiming every inch that Asshole had touched. What would it have been like for him to watch that man hurt her, touch her? He kissed right above and then below her steri-strips on her side, then kissed her hip. His head darted lower, his mouth hotter, wetter, and she gasped.
Pain inside her dueled—the pain of shame, Jake’s love, denial that she felt the same. So tired of running. So tired of giving up. She’d prefer Jake’s love over shame anytime. She reached down and tugged at his hair. “No. Make love to me. Now.”
He slid back up, using his arms to support himself, his hips pressing against hers gently, avoiding her injury. “You sure?”
“Now.”
He angled between her thighs and lifted her hips. He stared down at her as he slid home, so thick and hot in her pussy, stretching her slowly. Oh, the look in his eyes… Worry, lust, and something else. Maybe that was the love he’d mentioned. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tugged him down, closer, so he covered her.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please. Just—”
“Love you? Honey, I do. I know you don’t believe me, but I love you. It hurt to hear you this morning, knowing your past. You’re not a whore. You’re not cheap or dirty. You are one brave, tough girl. You are everything that is good for me, and what you hate about yourself makes you woman enough for me. I love you. Just let me love you, Sarah. Please. Let me take your pain.”
“Yes,” she whispered, driving her hips upward, wanting him to thrust, move, do something. He responded with a slow, measured tip of his hips, one that demanded she take it slow. His hand cupped her hip, pinning her down, keeping her from driving against him so she didn’t hurt herself.
“Lie still,” he commanded. “Lie still, and let me love you slowly. Lie still or I will bind you so I don’t hurt you.”
The threat should have made her scared, after this morning—shouldn’t it have? Her pulse quickened along with her heart. Lust swirled around the pain, and instead of lacing in around the sharp stabs, lust quenched the pain. This was a command because he loved her, not because he wanted to be kinky.
Like a good girl, she stilled her hips and angled them so he could do all the work. It was still divine, the way he thrust, in, out, occasionally swiveling his hips side to side, the sensations varied.
“I can’t help you if you need more to come,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. I need you to come for me.”
He needed her to come
. Obediently she reached between them and stroked her clit as his cock danced in and out of her pussy. Her tummy tightened with each stroke of her fingers, the pleasure climbing higher, up that path to where the sky met heaven, driven by the need in his voice.
He
needed this orgasm, as much as she did. She grit her teeth on a moan, wanting nothing more than to come for him.
“Moan for me, honey. I need to hear you.” He bent his head and planted kisses on her breast, then nuzzled until her nipple slipped between his lips. He sucked, his tongue twirling, teeth nipping. Pleasure twirled at the end of his tongue, shocking down her body, spiking in her pussy, curling at her toes.
“Jake,” she moaned, letting go, giving in to the desire.
“Good girl,” he said as he lifted his head.
She looked into his eyes—so serious, so unlike Jake. Or maybe it was like Jake, the new Jake, the one who held her heart, but didn’t know it. He kissed her, and as she closed her eyes she pictured him climbing through the window from the fire escape, all business dressed with fear. How he’d come to her first, without even looking at Kate. She remembered his arms around her as he carried her four flights down. His embrace as the doctor looked at her wounds.
It was hard to believe an orgasm could grow from such gentleness, such control, but it did. She stroked her clit faster, and Jake upped his tempo, his breathing harsh, muscles tense. Pleasure and pain locked together and the pressure inside her built at a dizzying pace until she found she was holding it at bay instead of welcoming it.
“I’m so close,” she warned.
“Good. Come with me,” he begged. Not a command anymore. “Give in, and come with me.”
Come with him…
He’d asked her before, but this didn’t feel the same. He’d always felt higher, farther away, but now she could feel him there, with her, as if he held her hand, at her side instead of dragging her forward and along up the path. Her muscles tightened, and her body dampened with sweat.
Pleasure spiked higher, higher, as if they ran to the top of a castle tower, side by side, up the spiral staircase, her hand clenched in his. They hit the top, and she looked out, so exhilarating, so peaceful. The pain there good. Wholesome. But she couldn’t hear him.
“Jake?”
“Come with me,” he breathed, so gentle. Right there, over her, making love to her. “I love you.”
“I believe,” she whispered.
And they jumped from the tower wall. Together.
****
Tia woke, alone. The clock said ten-fifteen a.m. They’d fallen asleep after making love, not talking, just Jake holding her, stroking her hair, raining kisses along her body when the need struck him. She’d never felt so safe, sated, comforted before. Perfect.
But why didn’t she wake feeling just as perfect? She looked around.
Jake had left a note on his pillow.
Gone to work. Paperwork from yesterday. All is good with Kate and the baby. Be home for lunch. Love you, J.
The you was underlined three times, and he’d drawn a heart next to his name. A heart. Her Jake, who doodled stick figures killing each other, had drawn a heart, with shading and a little highlight bubble in the corner.
Yes, he did love her. She believed that now. But she wasn’t worthy of that love. Not when she needed so much help. She felt trapped. What could she do? Where could she go? Jake stood in the way of her flight, because he’d view this as running again. She frowned, and realized how right he was. She did run. All the time. If she couldn’t run, she hid.
Whatever you want, whatever you need…
What about what she needed? Wanted? She needed help. She wanted Jake. What if she stayed and let him help her? He said she was worthy. Was she?
Jake came back in an hour later, slamming the door as she was folding the clothes he’d tossed into the dryer. She didn’t know what to say. She had his underwear in her hands, and it felt awkward to face him that way, in a domestic capacity. But he didn’t look the least bit playful, or fun, or Jake-like. She frowned and dropped his undies back into the laundry basket. He filled the doorway, golden goodness with a touch of frosty attitude in his eyes.