Savor the Danger (17 page)

“It's odd, you know.” By the second she sounded sleepier, a little mysterious. “You treat weapons with the same comfort as your car keys.”

He glanced at her. “In a pinch, I'd rather have my gun than my keys any day.”

Turning on her side and tucking a hand beneath her cheek, she stared at his chest. “I don't regret it, you know.”

“What's that, babe?” He eased the zipper down over his boner, and shucked off his jeans but left on his boxers. Better not tempt his control at this point. Now that he'd had sex with Alani, he wanted her even more. Knowing she was here, in his home where he'd so often envisioned her, only heightened every combustible feeling.

“Doing without sleep to be with you.”

Hearing so much more than the simple words, Jackson went still.

Alani stared at his body. “Before that, before
you,
when I thought of going without sleep, it was to remember that airless little trailer where the traffickers took me.”

Ah, hell. His heart in his throat, Jackson sat on the bed by her and put a hand on her hip.

She turned her gaze up to him. “I was too afraid to sleep, then, too afraid to even close my eyes. I didn't know what they'd do to me. Not that I could have stopped them just by staying awake. But I at least wanted to see it coming.”

He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. He'd always boasted an overactive libido. Many times he'd gone without sleep in favor of a sexual marathon.

Right now, Alani needed different things. He wouldn't be walking away from her tomorrow or even the next day, so he didn't have to get his fill up front. “You can sleep now. I won't let anyone hurt you.”

Her tone soft, her voice low, she whispered, “But I hate wasting our time together. It's so nice seeing you like this, at ease, being yourself, letting me see you for who you really are. I'd rather be awake.” She licked her bottom lip. “I'd rather be soaking up more experiences.”

“Tease.” It amazed him how she could take his dark and dangerous mood and fracture it with tenderness and humor. “Now that we have an agreement, I'll try harder to balance things, okay? Sleep with sex.”

She smiled. “And food, and sightseeing and more talking?”

“Sure, if that's what you want.” With one arm under and around her, Jackson held her hip, keeping her close. The other hand he cupped over her shoulder. In stark contrast to him, she was small-boned, her features so fine and feminine. “Food, then sex. Sightseeing, then sex.”

She laughed. “Talking and sex?”

It wasn't a combination he usually enjoyed, but what the hell? “As long as you're not running away from me, I reckon we can fit all that in.”

“I can't really go anywhere, now can I?”

He mulled over that sentiment, resenting it, wanting her to
want
to stay. “You shouldn't feel like a prisoner.”

Curled into his side, she murmured, “Believe me, I know the difference.”

Shit. “I'm a dumbass. I didn't mean—”

“I know.” She fell silent for a moment, then said, “We talked about that the first time, you know.”

“The first time we had sex?”
The time he couldn't recall.
When she nodded, he asked, “About what?”

“How long this would last.”

His heart stuttered. What the hell had he told her? It was damned awkward not knowing.

She levered up on one elbow to look at him.

For only a flash of a second, he thought he saw culpability in her big innocent eyes, and he wondered at it. “Alani?”

“We agreed that as long as it stays fun and exciting,
and we're both enjoying ourselves, sexually I mean, we would keep…experimenting.”

What the hell? Had he really spelled it out so bluntly? Sure, he sometimes did that with other women because he didn't want them to get ideas. He wanted them to know up front not to have expectations. But that was
other
women.

Had he been that insensitive with Alani, too?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know, so instead he said, “Why wouldn't it be fun?”

“I don't know.” She didn't quite meet his gaze. “You promised me great sex, and you've more than delivered. But neither of us wanted to get locked down.”

“We didn't, huh?” That didn't sound like her. He knew better than most that Alani had never slept around. She was an all-or-nothing kind of woman—or so he'd always assumed. But her sheltered life might have kept her from sowing any wild oats.

Was he her damned oats?

Great sex, that's what she wanted—what she expected? How much pressure was
that?
Sure, he had every intention of delivering, but all guys had an off time now and then. If he didn't leave her limp and smiling, did that mean she'd go off to a different guy with newfound sensuality and confidence?

Over his dead body. Before he let that happen, he'd—

“Jackson?” Gentle fingertips touched his brow. “You're frowning.”

Because she turned him upside down. He was just disgruntled enough to mutter darkly, “You're already expecting me to fall short!”

Her eyes widened…and then her mouth twitched. “Not really.”

“But if I do, you'll use that as an excuse to book, won't you?”

“We already agreed that I couldn't book, remember?”

That provocation brought a feral growl from deep in his throat.

His attitude left her playfully puzzled. “Do you expect to be a bad lover?”

“No!”

Then…

“You shouldn't use that as an excuse to cut things short.”

Searching his austere gaze, she bit her bottom lip and ventured cautiously, “Just how long do you expect this to last?”

“Uh…” Damn it. He'd talked himself into a corner. He wasn't the insecure sort, but he didn't really want to fumble through a confession of his indecisive feelings without knowing exactly how she felt first.

And a plan came to mind. She'd just made it clear that she expected mind-blowing sex. Fine. He'd blow her mind. Big-time. He'd yet to meet a woman who didn't eventually spout her feelings during release. Vows of affection went hand in hand with orgasms.

Give 'em an O, and they got lovey-dovey in return.

Most of the time he was indulgent about professions of love, sympathetic to the attitude if not the actual significance.

“Do we have to decide right this second?” Once he had her blindly moaning out her darkest secrets, then he'd figure out what he wanted, and how much.

As her shoulders slumped a little, Alani let out a breath. “No, of course not. I wasn't pressuring you.” And then, defensively, “You're the one who brought it up.”

Jackson knew he'd both confused and embarrassed her. He cuddled her closer. “Why don't we talk about all this later?” Much, much later. He kissed her forehead. “For now, let's get some sleep.”

Her drowsy eyes studied him, but in the end she shrugged and settled back down again. She got comfortable with her thigh over his, her hand resting over his heart. “One thing, Jackson.”

He swallowed back a groan and waited.

“I might not have a lot to compare with, but I'm sure you do, so you have to know that the sex, at least for me, has been nothing short of amazing.”

A fair start. “You can thank me later—when you're better rested.” With Alani, he wanted to be more than amazing.

Now, tomorrow…and for the foreseeable future, he wanted to be the only one.

M
ARC
T
OBIN GOT ONE EYE OPEN
. The other eye…he didn't know. He hurt so bad, in places he'd never thought of, muscles he'd never used. He tasted old blood in his mouth, smelled new blood on his clothes.

Pinpricks of pain ran up and down his arms. They'd been tied behind him for what felt like days, but he really had no concept of the time that had passed. All he knew with certainty was that he had to get away, or they'd kill him.

He'd told them all he knew, but it was never enough.

Jesus, when it came down to it, he didn't know Alani all that well, and he barely knew Jackson at all.

His tormentors didn't buy it—or else they didn't care.

He wanted his old life back, the security of money, social connections, the power of prestige and respect from peers. He thought of the fists that had hit him. Black leather gloves. Cruel eyes staring through a mask. Guttural questions and more questions, coming rapidfire whether he had answers or not.

He'd dated Alani on a casual basis. He'd met Jackson twice, not counting that last time when the shots were fired, when he'd thought to escape, when someone had clubbed him in the back of the head and later awakened him with a punch to the gut.

It hurt to breathe, but he had to. If he ever wanted to get away, this might be his only chance.

Once, when they'd opened the door to his small cell, he'd seen trees. Sky. Outdoors.

He wasn't in a room in a bigger building, but rather a small, isolated structure. Maybe a shed. Or a garage of sorts.

No windows, but filtered sunlight crept in around a crack between the wall and floor, beneath the old door and in a vent in the ceiling.

He couldn't lock his broken jaw, but he did his utmost to stifle grunts of misery as he struggled to pull his arms free. Blood and sweat wet the binding around his wrists, now loosened from his involuntary jerking of pain during the last “questioning.”

For now, the room was empty. Dark. Smelling of his fear and pain.

Agony ripped through him, but he pulled at his right hand, leaning forward, praying he didn't do more damage to his abused body—and finally his hand came free.

It so surprised Marc that he slumped forward for a second, panting, fighting the blackness that closed in around him, before he finally realized what had happened.

He studied his hand. Blood covered his skin, looking obscene in and around his swollen fingers. He was certain a few were broken, given they were black, blue, oddly bent.

His stomach recoiled. Puking would only hurt more, and it'd definitely slow him down, so he swallowed convulsively until the nausea abated.

He was a strong man, capable of fighting for what he wanted, insisting when necessary. He'd faced off with
more than one confrontation, dealt with more than one conflict. He was fit, athletic, more physical than most.

But he'd never been through anything like this. Not even close.

Given the abuse he'd suffered, it took him long, agonizing minutes to free his other hand and his feet. When he stood, his right knee wanted to give out. But by God, he'd crawl if he had to. Using the chair, he steadied himself.

He was leaving here. Now.

Praying he would find the door unlocked, he hobbled over to it, turned the doorknob—and inhaled in relief as it slid open.

He peeked outside, but he saw no one standing guard. A drizzling, miserable summer rain soaked everything in sight, leaving the muddy ground sodden, the sky dark gray. Off in the distance, through sparse woods, sat an old stone building. It looked dilapidated and abandoned.

But then he heard…sounds. Awful sounds. Moans, cries.

Begging.

Oh, God. Frantic for escape, he looked around, but everywhere he saw woods and more woods. He didn't know which way to go, so he started walking away from that stone house, from the shed that had imprisoned him. Praying more, he put as much distance between him and the suffering as he could.

As he made his way along, he remembered their exchanges. Early on he'd tried to bargain with them, but they cared nothing about his financial offers. When he'd threatened legal repercussions, they'd laughed.
Stop fighting it. There's nothing you can do. Nowhere you can go. No one to help you. Even if you made it away from here and got to the police, they'd never find us.

But we'd find you. Never doubt it.

And he didn't. Oh, he'd go to the police. Eventually. But God willing, if he made it out of the woods alive, he'd find a hospital first, and then he'd call the only person he could think of who might actually be able to keep him safe.

He'd call that crazy fucker Jackson.

 

I
T RAINED FOR THREE DAYS
.

All his plans to take Alani out on the lake, to skinny-dip with her, to explore his property together, were pushed aside…for endless sex.

As per his plan, he'd taken advantage of the close confines.

Just that morning he'd awakened to thunderstorms that shook his house. It made him horny. But then, as irregular as it seemed, a stiff breeze could make him urgent with lust when he had Alani within reach.

As crackling lightning split the dark sky, he'd kissed Alani awake, then kept on kissing her—everywhere—until she'd cried out in a rush of pleasure.

Only after she'd insisted had he rolled on a condom and slid inside her. She'd moaned with verve, clung to him, bit his shoulder.

But other than saying she couldn't get enough, other than praising him and doing a little sexual praying—
Oh God, oh God
—she hadn't confessed a damn thing.

That was hours ago.

Midday, rays of sunshine finally cut through the gray skies. His third day with her.

And yet, nothing had changed. Or it hadn't changed enough.

Wearing only jeans, his chest and feet bare, Jackson stood on the covered patio and let the humid breeze drift over his body. Thanks to the rain, the air was fresh but
thick. He filled his lungs and watched the waves on the shore.

He should have felt peaceful. Since arriving at his house, he'd been sating himself on Alani's body, soaking up her smiles, her sighs, and at the height of pleasure, her lusty groans of release.

He loved the raw, real sounds she made, her naturalness during sex. Physically, she never held back from him.

She gave him her body. But her heart? Her mind?

Damn it, he didn't know. As an astute man in all things, and especially a man who knew women well, Jackson could tell something wasn't one-hundred percent right.

Around making love to Alani, he'd kept to a schedule of sorts. He made use of his gym to burn off excess energy when Alani fell asleep on him. He worked on his house whenever she wanted time on his computer to search out interior designs—usually for decorating one of his rooms.

He loved it that she took an interest, and so far, her suggestions had been perfect. Soon as they could, he'd take her with him to hit up a store. Together they'd pick out more furnishings for him.

They took turns cooking, with her mostly doing breakfast, and him grilling their dinner on the back porch under the overhang. They often soaked in the Jacuzzi tub together, and each night they slept entwined.

But it wasn't enough. Jackson had the burning need for more.

A lot more.

As usual, he felt Alani's presence the moment she joined him. He turned to find her at the patio doors, her face clean of makeup, her hair in a loose braid.

She wore a bikini, and like him, her feet were bare.

“God Almighty, woman.” His mouth went dry. “That's some sexy icing on the cake.”

“I'm glad I thought to include it when I packed.” Her shy smile didn't fool him; she knew the effect she'd have.

The slinky white material, edged by black lace, clung to her body. It showed off the outline of her nipples and every plump seam of her sex.

Jackson reached for her, but she darted back and held a beach towel in front of her body.

“I'm going swimming.”

“No, you're not.” He was already hard and getting harder by the second.

As if he hadn't spoken, she said, “If you want to join me, that'd be great. But this is the first clear day we've had—”

“It's not clear.” He started toward her, and she backed up, circling away from the doors. “More clouds are rolling in.”

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she stayed just out of reach.

And he continued to stalk her.

“Then I'd better hurry.” She back-stepped off the patio.

“Careful.” The land sloped gently down to the lake, and the wet grass could be treacherous to slippery feet.

She held up a hand, palm out, still giddy and teasing. “I want to swim, Jackson.”

“We'll swim after.”

“You said it yourself, the sunshine might not last.”

“If you really wanted to swim,” he told her, keeping her in his sights as she took another step back, “then you shouldn't have put on that boner-inspiring getup.”

He finally got close enough, and Alani stunned him
by cupping her hand over him, kneading him, stroking a little. His eyes closed, his breath quickened.

“How about,” she teased, “we count the swimming as foreplay?”

“I won't last.”

“We had sex this morning.”

“So?” He caught her wrist and held her hand in place while he stripped the towel away from her. Man, she was a feast for the eyes. Staring at her belly, he muttered, “Around you, I stay hard and ready.”

“I noticed, and I'm flattered.”

Flattered? His gaze shot back to hers. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Flattered.
He snorted. She should be a damn sight more than flattered. “What do you think? That all guys are sexual machines? 'Cuz I can tell you, they aren't.”

“Sexual machine…yes, that describes you.” She snickered, but quickly sobered. “Do you know you always get fractious when you're aroused?”

His brows shot up. Fractious? Is that what she thought? More like he was desperate, lost, frantic with need.

“One insult after another.” He burned for her, and every day just seemed worse than the day before. And yet, she wanted to swim. “I ought to hold out on you.”

The smile played over her mouth. “Maybe you should.” And then, playfully pleading, “At least until after I've had a swim?”

Jackson measured her mood and slowly nodded. “I'll make you a deal.”

“I'm listening.”

“We'll swim—but you lose the suit.”

“Lose…” She blinked fast. “But I thought you liked it.”

Watching her, keeping her gaze locked in his, he
slipped a hand inside her bra top, over her breast, rasping her nipple with his palm. “Yeah. I do. It's a turn-on.”

Her lips parted, and her eyes grew heavy.

“But you naked is better. Always.”

Undecided, she turned to look down at the lake.

“No one will see you. There's a reason I chose to build here. The cove is private. But even if someone did come by, you'll be in the water. Hidden.” He teased his thumb over her. “To everyone but me.”

Filled with resolve, her gaze came back to his. “Fine.”

Oh, man. He started to growl out a few alternate suggestions to swimming, but she didn't give him a chance.

“You have to be naked, too.”

“Not a problem.” He grinned at her. “I don't even own trunks.”

“You don't…” Nettled, she slipped away from him. “For heaven's sake, Jackson. So you always swim naked with women?”

“Keep up, will you?” He took her arm and started them both down the hill. “I haven't brought any other women here.” And to make sure she got the significance of that, he tacked on, “Just you.”

Bees flitted across the clover in front of them, and Jackson steered her around to a path of sorts. Eventually he'd put in a stone walkway, but it wasn't high on his list of priorities.

“So.” Alani stepped with him onto the dock, then curled her toes on the sun-warmed boards. “I know I'm here because of a threat.”

“There's that.” Mindful of a full erection, he unzipped his jeans.

“What if another woman was threatened?”

“I'd do what I could.” He pushed down his jeans and stepped free of them. Naked, the sun hot on his back, he stood before her. “But I wouldn't bring her here.”

Her attention darted from his body, to the entrance of the cove and back again. Making him more than a little nuts, she licked her bottom lip—and focused on his dick.

Man, oh man. “Dangerous territory, babe, if you know what I mean.”

She shook her head. “You're incredible.”

He choked back a laugh. “With you staring, I'm sure to get more incredible by the second.” Jackson turned her. His fingers on the band holding her braid, he said as casually as he could, “This is my home, honey. My getaway.” The band slid free of her silky hair, and he smoothed it, running his fingers through the ripples left behind, before pushing it over her shoulder.

He trailed his knuckles down her spine.

“Your brother and Dare have been here. Their women are welcome.”

“You are such a caveman,” she muttered, but goose-flesh rose in the wake of his touch. “They're wives.”

“And women.” He knew better than Alani just how possessive a man in love could be. Blocking that disturbing thought, he caught her hips. “Point is, I would never bring my work here. That'd defeat the purpose of having a private place.”

Did she understand that, for him, she was more than work? More than sex. More than…he didn't know.

More than anything he'd had before, or ever expected to have.

Drawing her back against him, he kissed the side of her throat, opened his mouth over the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.

Tipping her head to the side, she whispered, “I feel on display.”