Savor the Danger (3 page)

The tugging of his mouth as he sucked on her most sensitive flesh.

Her breath labored, and…she nodded.

Jackson's muscles bunched, his nostrils flared. His voice going thick and hot, he asked, “Did you come then, too, darlin'? With my mouth on you?”

Her orgasm had been so incredible, she'd wept. But she couldn't bring herself to be that explicit. She licked her lips and, in a mere breath of sound, admitted, “Yes.”

Putting his forehead to hers, Jackson groaned like a man in agony.

Alani touched his chest. Heat, strength, safety. He was all of that and so much more. But why couldn't he remember? “Were you sick, Jackson? Is that why you can't remember?” Looking at the morning in a new way, she realized he'd been seriously ill.

And she'd stormed out on him.

Flushed with shame, she cupped a hand around his neck. “Are you all right now?”

“All right? Hell, no. I'm tortured by what I can't remember.” He covered her hand with his, lifted it to his mouth to kiss her palm. “After all that time of me wanting you so bad, and you turning me down flat, how the hell did I finally manage to win you over?”

I
T WASN'T EASY
for Alani to accept that he truly couldn't recall a single detail. She'd suffered so much angst over her gullibility, over behavior that, for all intents and purposes, no longer mattered.

Except that she wanted to do it again.

Unwilling to expose her heart, she shook her head. “I don't know.”

“C'mon, darlin'. Something swayed you.” He tried a strained half smile. “Help me out here.”

Because Jackson looked so agonized, she tried to give him the simplest of truths. “It doesn't matter anymore, but it was the things you said as much as anything you did.”

“Yeah?” He brought up her chin, leaving her no choice but to look into his deep green eyes. “Like what?”

He kept touching her with an implied intimacy, stroking, nuzzling. She'd just spent hours coming to grips with the idea that she'd succumbed to a one-night stand, yet he acted as though they'd just begun a long affair.

She discounted everything he'd said last night, but still…did he want more?

If so, how much more?

He trailed his fingers over her cheek, around her neck, over her bare shoulder.

She shivered. Jackson might be sick from whatever
had taken his memory, but he was still the quintessential primal male. Always.

At least…that's how he always was with her.

Was he like that with every woman? Probably. Even Dare's and Trace's wives had noted Jackson's good looks and sex appeal.

Shaking her head, Alani refused to think about it. “It was just…things you said. That's all.” Things he'd promised, commitments he'd insinuated. “I guess it's the stuff guys say to women when they want to talk them into bed.”

That made him frown. “Like what? Compliments? Big deal. When have I ever
not
complimented you?”

Sure, Jackson did a lot of sweet-talking—while on the make. “No, this was different.” This had felt more genuine, wrought from emotion and not just lust.

“How?” His attention drifted to her chest. “I bet I told you how damn sexy you are.”

Resisting an eye roll wasn't easy. Later he had called her sexy, but at that point they'd already been on a heated path to lovemaking and she'd
felt
sexy.

She wasn't sure she could pinpoint the moment that she'd known she would sleep with him, but that day he'd been different. Not more intense, because that wasn't possible. Jackson was
always
intense.

But from the second she'd walked in the door, he'd looked at her, touched her and spoken to her differently.

He'd spoken from his heart—or so she'd thought.

Renewed embarrassment made her defensive. “Actually, you said I'm pretty.” And that was both sweeter and more touching than claiming her “hot” or “sexy.” Those sentiments had been expressed by the men who'd taken her, the men who'd manhandled her, restrained her, touched her, the men who'd planned to—

“Hey.” As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Jackson pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. Sounding much as he had last night, he said, “You are pretty, Alani. So damn pretty.” His mouth brushed her ear. “All over.”

Face warm, she shook off the remnants of old emotion, fear and desolation from her kidnapping, discomfort from her naiveté last night.

“Thank you.” Dare had killed her kidnappers, and her brother now focused on destroying all human traffickers. She wasn't with those men anymore. She was with Jackson, and he was about all she could handle right now. “You also said I was sweet.”

His burning gaze zeroed in on the notch of her thighs. “God, I bet you are.”

Her knees went shaky, so she pushed back from him. Hoping for a few calm moments to think, she said, “We have to figure this out, Jackson, so leash the lust.”

His chin went up as he stared down at her. “Woman, you ask the impossible.”

“Do it anyway!”

Sighing, lifting his hands from her as if in surrender, he stepped back. “This is me trying.”

Though the situation couldn't be more skewed, he remained strong and capable. She envied him that. “What do you think happened?
Did
you drink?”

“Doubt it.” He shook his head. “I can't remember, but I'm not much of a drinker.” And then with a shrug, “Never have been.”

She knew that about him. It was a control thing. Her brother and Dare…they disdained alcohol because it could throw off reflexes or perception, and they were all about control—of themselves and others. If Jackson imbibed much, they wouldn't trust him.

She didn't know the whole story of how Jackson came to join their team, but not long after she'd been recovered from Tijuana, they'd brought him on board. Obviously they trusted him, and that meant Alani could trust him, too—at least about this.

With anything more personal, like a romantic relationship, she just didn't know.

He watched her every move. “I rummaged through my apartment, even the garbage, but I didn't see any empty bottles. No sign of a drinking binge on my end.”

Suspicions crowded in, but for the moment, she pushed them aside. “Did you maybe fall and hit your head?”

That insulted him. “No.” He snorted. “Course not.”

“But you don't remember, right? So how do you know?”

Roughly tousling his own hair, he said, “See? No bruises, no bumps.” He moved in again. “In fact, other than a few scratches that I'm hoping came from you, I don't have any marks—no bruises or cuts or anything.”

“Scratches?”

His mouth quirked sensually. “On my shoulders. Small half moons right where a woman usually holds on tight when she's—”

“So.” Interrupting seemed the safer course. “You probably weren't involved in a scuffle, then.”

He shook his head. “Let's talk about what might've happened…after.”

Would his possibilities mesh up with her suspicions? Likely. “After what?”

He pointed a finger at her. “Maybe you don't understand how it is for me, how it'd be for any guy, but especially for me since I've been hot on your tail for a while now.”

The things he said, and how he said them, were both insulting and somehow…flattering. “Jackson…”

“To make sure there aren't any misunderstandings, let me clue you in, okay? I've got a bad case for you.”

“Sexual chemistry. I know. You've told me.” Last night it had felt like more, but last night didn't exist for him.

“Call it whatever you want, doesn't matter to me.”

Sadly, what they called it mattered a lot to her. “I see.”

“Don't go twisting my words, okay?” Jackson thrust out his chin. “Bottom line is that I
have
to know what we did. All of it.”

“I already told you.”

“We had sex, yeah. Got it. But that could mean a whole range of things. I need the particulars, like if it was nice and slow, or fast and furious.”

Oh. She peeked at him. “Both?”

He went still, then clasped his head and groaned again. In a croak, he asked, “Good old missionary, or did we mix it up a bit? Bedroom or living room?”

The first time had been in his bed. Then his shower. And later in the hall, against the wall. “All of the above.”

His nostrils flared. “How many times did I have you, anyway?”

She bit her lips then ventured… “All night?”

Jerking away, he stalked three steps, then rushed back to her. “Lights on or off?”

“On.” He'd insisted, but at that point, she hadn't cared. She had enjoyed the concentrated way he'd looked at her, and she'd wanted to see him, too.

Not only had she forgotten any shyness over her nudity, she'd also forgotten about the past, about men who'd taken her and looked at her, handled her like property. With
Jackson, she'd overcome a lot of hang-ups. Maybe too many, considering the night had been built on fraud.

His expression a mix of pleading and demand, he grabbed her shoulders. “Damn, baby, I need to see you again. All of you. I need to know how you sound when you're excited, and when you come.” His busy fingers went to the shoulder strap of her sundress, touching almost idly, playing with it as if it tempted him greatly. “I need to taste you, smell you—”

Stunned, flustered and a little turned on, Alani grabbed his wrist. She hated to disappoint him—and herself—but she saw no other choice. Not right now. “Jackson,” she said gently, “you can't seriously expect me to put aside everything that happened and just…”

“Pick up wherever we left off? Yeah.” He searched her gaze. “God, yeah.”

“
Not
happening.” But he looked very endearing in his need. No one had ever wanted her the way Jackson Savor did.

He also looked ready to collapse. Worried for him, she touched his jaw and forced her mind onto more immediate matters. “Have you eaten?”

He scowled. “No. Screw that.” He drew himself up. “You think I could wake up with you naked, soft and smiling one minute, pissed off and storming out the next, with no clue why or how, and I'd just go about my day?”

Yes, well, that did sound absurd. “Sorry.”

“After you left, I suffered through a cold shower, choked down three aspirin and prayed for even a kernel of memory. I got jack-shit. Nothing.”

And yet, when he should be resting in his bed, all he wanted was…her.

Her heart softened more, and her reservations waned. “Why do you think you've forgotten?”

Frustration clenched his jaw. His head dropped back on his shoulders, eyes closed. “You're not going to let this go, are you?”

How could she, especially with him looking so sick? “Of course not.”

His eyes narrowed, and that, too, looked painful, prompting her to change tactics.

“This is ridiculous. You need to sit down.” She took his hand and led him back to her living room. At the couch, she stopped and pressed against his chest. “Sit.”

After a heartbeat where he looked as if he might argue, he more or less fell into the cushions, his strong limbs lax, his entire demeanor devastated. And the enormity of it all hit her, really hit her.

Even the strongest of men had moments of weakness. Jackson always seemed so indomitable, so confident.

But for right now, he needed her, in more ways than one.

Maybe she hadn't been the only one played last night.

Sinking down next to him, Alani touched his forehead. As if surprised, he went very still.

“No fever.” She cupped his jaw, and felt it firm under her fingers. “Although you are warm.”

Warily, Jackson watched her.

She smoothed his unruly blond hair. It was a little too long, bleached by the sun. Cool and silky. Such a contrast to his inner strength and his external hardness.

Alani made up her mind. “We're definitely going to talk about this, Jackson, you can believe that. But first I'm going to get you something to drink, and then something to eat. When did you take the aspirin?”

One eye twitched in rebellion. “Don't start mothering me, Alani. That's not what I want from you.”

She smiled at his surly tone. “Consider it friendly concern, okay?”

“Call it whatever you want, but I'd rather you lift up that dress, skim off those panties and straddle my lap.”

His audacity stole her breath and her aplomb. “Forget that idea.”

“With you touching me? Not likely.”

“It's not my touch that's doing it.” Playful, hoping to tease him into a less sexually aggressive mode, she nudged him with her shoulder. “It's from all the provocative talking you're doing.”

Slowly he shook his head. “It's from you, babe. Talking to you, thinking about you.” His eyes closed for only a moment as he whispered, “Remembering you naked.” He rested a big, hot hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her sundress.

“You need to focus, Jackson.”

“I'm focused, believe me.”

Boy, was he ever. “On something
other
than sex.”

“I'm focused on you, and thoughts of sex automatically follow.” He tugged her closer. “But you know, I could be a lot more cooperative if you'd help me take the edge off first.”

And exactly how did he think to do that?

His hand slid higher while his voice went lower. “Just let me touch you—”

She grabbed his wrist.
So thick, so solid.
Dangerous waves of desire weakened her resistance. “We can't do this.”

“We sure as hell can.” And then, “We already did. Right?”

Unnerved by how tempted she felt, Alani shook her
head. “
I
can't do this, not right now. So tell me, when did you take the aspirin?”

He stared at her mouth, and his fingers contracted. “Before I headed here, 'bout three hours ago.”

Relieved that he'd finally let up, she released a tight breath. “All right. I'll get a couple more. Do you want to take off your boots?”

Slowly he nodded. “And my shirt.” His gaze came up to snare hers. “Maybe my pants, too.”

That was his most tempting offer so far. She hadn't gotten nearly enough time to look at him last night, and this morning…well, he'd been vague, sick, and she'd been so insulted….

To remind herself as much as him, she said, “Forget it, Jackson. You're not up for it.”

“Wrong.” His hand slid around to cup behind her knee. He tugged her leg toward him, over one of his thighs. “Trust me, I'm up.”

Don't look, don't look—
Unbelievable.
A full erection strained the worn denim of his jeans.

“Jackson.” Before things could get completely out of hand, Alani pushed up and away from him. “Be right back.”

She heard Jackson groan as she more or less fled the room.

When she returned minutes later with the aspirin, a cola and a sandwich, Jackson looked to be sleeping again. He had his head back, one forearm over his eyes, his body relaxed.